Get Out
by MarcoLover16
Summary: Darco. Marco can handle Rebecca, his friend's death, work, and everything else on his own. He doesn't need a man, especially if it's his husband coming back into the picture.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: You may find it a bit confusing at the beginning, but I'm sure it'll clear up. :) It's very short, I know. The next chapters will be muuuuuuuch longer!

"Baby, come _on." _Marco tried to coax the little girl into getting herself in the car seat, but she refused to let go of him.

"Please?" he begged, trying to keep his patience, but his niece was seriously trying him.

"Where are we going?" she asked, the sadness showing in her eyes. Marco sighed, remembering her fear of separation.

"I'm going to drop you off with my parents. You like my mother, don't you?" said Marco.

Rebecca nodded, letting go of her tight hold on Marco's neck, and allowing him to carefully belt her in. He smiled gratefully. Hopefully, they would both make it peacefully through the car ride.

Marco pulled into his parents' driveway, feeling a slight headache coming on. He hadn't been to see them for a while, aside from dropping off Rebecca. He made a silent vow that he would visit with the human race some more.

Marco scooped up the four year old beauty into his arms before making his way up to the front door. His mother opened up before he even had the chance to ring the doorbell, and hugged both of them. As always, she asked the dreaded question.

"How are you?"

The question was always asked with a smile, but it showed in her eyes how sad she was when she had to voice it. It always brought up the query of how much honesty Marco would have to give her. Normally, he would simply tell her that he was fine, but then she looked at him as though she knew it wasn't true. If she already knew, why did she ask?

"I'm all right," he shrugged, laughing as Rebecca had already walked into the house and was exploring the kitchen.

"You might feel better if you took a moment to relax," said his mother, frowning sympathetically.

"Well, I'll relax while she's here, won't I?" said Marco. "Thanks, ma," he kissed her cheek. "Whenever dad gets in, tell him hello for me."

Marco hurriedly got back in his car, wanting to get back home as soon as possible.

By the time he arrived in his apartment, he heard the incessant ringing of the phone. He unplugged it, and then quickly turned off his cell phone, figuring the person would try that as well.

He did want some time alone, but he found himself wishing he had Rebecca to keep him company again. At least, with her, there was never a moment to sit and just think. Marco didn't enjoy being left to his own thoughts too frequently.

Finally, he gave up, and called the girl he knew had been trying to reach him.

"Marco," said Ellie immediately before a hello, surprised at the caller.

"Hey, El!" he replied, suddenly having second thoughts about the call. "What's up?" he asked.

"What's up with me?" she asked. "Who the hell cares! What is going on in your life? How's Rebecca?"

"She's doing well," said Marco, taking a seat on the couch. "She's with my mom right now," Marco realized that had been a big mistake the moment after he had said it.

"So, you're alone?" she asked.

"_Yes," _he answered grudgingly.

"I'm coming over," said Ellie, hanging up right away. Marco sighed. He'd been lying long enough to know better than to give away that he was alone and not busy! That was a beginner's mistake.

Ellie called Marco almost everyday. Some days, he'd pick up. Other days, he wouldn't, but when he did, he'd always have a good excuse. Usually, he just said there was something wrong with Rebecca. He loved Ellie. He had never stopped, but after all that had happened over the previous two years, he didn't think he could ever handle being social again.

However, he supposed he was going to have to find a way because his thoughts were interrupted by his friend's loud knocking.

"Ellie," he exclaimed, opening the door, and throwing on a fake smiled that he hoped was convincing enough.

"Hey," said Ellie, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. She walked into his apartment, her eyes widening more and more with each step she took.

"It's a mess!" she laughed. "That's just so not Marco."

Marco nodded, agreeing. "It's all Rebecca's fault," he said softly.

Ellie bit her lip, walking over to the couch, following in his footsteps. "Marco, maybe it would be easier on you if Rebecca li—"

"No," he said, irritated, having heard it so many times before. "She is never going to live with him. He doesn't want her, anyway."

"Okay," said Ellie, afraid to get him angry, "but maybe she could—"

"Ellie, stop," said Marco. "I can take care of her. End of story."

Ellie nodded quietly, wishing she didn't have to say such things, but they were crucial to his well-being. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Ellie spoke again.

"I know I never liked her, but I miss her too, and I never told you that," said Ellie, her voice so quiet Marco barely heard. He looked up at her, waiting for her to continue. "I also think she'd want her daughter to be raised by two people that love her."

"One person can love her enough," Marco argued.

"I know that," said Ellie, leaning over to touch his hand in a comforting gesture, "but won't it be slightly weird for her that she never met her father, her mother is dead, and the man who is raising her hasn't spoken with his husband in over two years?" she asked, trying to make him see reason.

Marco sighed, exasperated. "Yeah, it's not the greatest family for her, but I can't control that." He turned his face away from her concerned eyes. "What do you want me to do, El?" he asked, desperation clearly showed in his voice. A part of him knew he absolutely needed help.

"Maybe just speak with Dylan."

"Are you kidding me?" said Marco, appalled, subconsciously playing with the ring on his finger. "I don't want him back, El."

"Fine," she said, unintentionally raising her voice. "Divorce him. Whatever makes you feel better, but as of now, he's still your husband. Revive it or end it; just don't ignore it," she said.

"I told him to get out," said Marco, "and I'm not bringing him back in. Physically or mentally."

A/N: So, yeah, I know it was super short, but it was just an introduction type thing. Please review :)


	2. Questions

Author's Note: New chapter. Enjoy.

After the not-so-pleasant meeting with Ellie was over, it was already past five in the evening, and Marco figured he would have to drive over to pick up Rebecca. He threw on his jacket. It was much too cold to be November.

Marco walked out to the car, and drove back to his parents' house that he felt as if he just left from, thinking the entire way there.

Announcing to his father his plans to be married was not the greatest experience he'd ever had. He had questioned Marco insanely, wondering why the hell he would make such a decision, but Dylan had been there behind him, telling him that his father still loved him, they'd make it through, and it would all be worth it. His father did still love him, and they had made it through, but had it been worth it?

Marco got out of the car, closing the door behind him. He assumed his mother wouldn't mind if he just opened the door. He smiled when he saw both of his parents fussing over Rebecca. They'd always wanted a grandchild.

"Hey," said Marco, making his presence known. They all looked up quickly, and Rebecca's eyes positively glowed.

"Daddy!" she squealed, throwing down the pop-up book she was flipping through, and ran to him. Mrs. Del Rossi looked at Marco, surprised at the new title he had been given.

Marco shrugged, pushing Rebecca's bangs away from her eyes, and kissing her forehead sweetly. "Good day?" he asked. Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, and Marco knew he was going to hear all about it in the car.

"Rebecca, honey, stay in here," said Marco's mother, motioning for him to join her in the kitchen. Rebecca shrugged, leaning against Mr. Del Rossi, and opening up the book again.

Marco followed her through the doorway into the kitchen. His parents had obviously planned a conversation prior to his arrival. She closed the door behind them.

"First things first," she started, "daddy?"

Marco shrugged, pulling himself up to sit on the counter. "She came to the store with me, and she began talking to a boy just a bit older than her that was explaining stuff about his family. Next thing I knew, I was daddy," said Marco.

"I see," said Mrs. Del Rossi. "Marco, what's going to happen when school begins again, and you have to work?" she asked. "It's only three days away."

"Mother," said Marco, desperately trying to keep his cool, "I am doing the best I can right now. When I start working again, I'll find somewhere for her to go. She can't stay with you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not if I want to keep this house. I'm going back to work, Marco. She'll be five in a month. I'm sure you can register her for school," she said.

Marco sighed, staring down at his swinging legs. "It's not like I haven't thought about it, but I don't think she's ready just yet. Maybe next year."

Mrs. Del Rossi shook her head in disapproval. "You can't keep saying, 'tomorrow, next week, next year'…eventually, things have to get done. Marco, you're going to be twenty-six in three months. It'll come faster than you think."

"Ma, I know," he said, irritated. "I just…I'm going to go. I'll think about it." Marco jumped down from the counter.

Mrs. Del Rossi hugged him. "I know you're stressed," she said sympathetically, "and things are difficult. I'm sorry to pressure you; it'll all get better."

Marco pulled away from her, telling her that he was fine. He walked back into the living room, saying good-bye to his father, and then taking Rebecca by hand. He had only a tiny bit of trouble getting her into the car seat, as she knew she was going to be able to talk to 'daddy' again as soon as they started moving.

Marco started the car, pretending to be listening intently to her story, really only catching a few words every so often.

"And so I'm really excited for that," she said smiling, "then maybe I'll be able to learn to read all by myself."

Marco nodded. "Mhmm," he muttered, distracted.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned, trying to reach out to him, and he laughed at her frustration from not being able to.

"Fine," he answered, pulling into the driveway, and getting out of the car to let her out.

Rebecca walked closely beside him, trying to read in Marco's face what was wrong with him, but not understanding. If he was sad, why didn't he just say so?

He opened the door to the apartment, throwing his jacket carelessly onto the couch in front of him, falling down onto it. He smiled contently. At least, he was comfortable.

"Daddy?" said Rebecca, standing in front of him. Marco turned his face to look at her, raising an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.

"Yes?" he asked, sighing wearily.

She fidgeted with her hands a bit, and Marco tried not to lose his patience with her. He motioned for her to sit at the end of the couch where his feet stopped, and she did so happily.

"Now, go on," he pressed, wondering what she wanted to talk about. Knowing her, it could have been the weather or how many bristles his toothbrush had because hers didn't have as many.

"How come…other people…I don't have a mom?" she asked, and she didn't look upset or concerned at all. She was simply…curious, it seemed.

_So much for being comfortable._ Marco lifted himself up into a sitting position, and Rebecca instinctively moved closer.

"Any particular reason you want to know?" he asked, stalling.

Rebecca shrugged. "In those movies, and that boy at the store, they always have a mom and a dad. How come…I don't have either…?" She sighed. "I mean, I call you 'daddy', but only because you didn't say it was wrong."

"Beck, I don't care what you call me, really," said Marco. "I was fine when I was your Uncle," he laughed.

Rebecca crossed her arms, smart enough to realize that he was purposely avoiding her question. He laughed. "Okay, okay."

She smiled in approval, waiting for him to say more.

"Well, everyone has a mother," said Marco. He had been waiting for the moment the parent question would come since she'd moved in with him, but he'd avoided it for as long as he possibly could. "I don't suppose you remember yours."

Rebecca shook her head, signaling that she absolutely didn't. "Was she pretty?" she asked, excited.

Marco laughed, stroking Rebecca's long red hair. "Beautiful, just the way you are."

Rebecca smiled at the compliment, giggling slightly. "Was she nice?"

"Yeah," said Marco, staring out past Rebecca's face. He couldn't bear to look at her. "She was, like, one of my best friends."

"Yeah?" she asked, and Marco couldn't help but feel happier listening to her thrill. "Where is she now?" she asked.

"She…" How to explain to a child what death is when even the greatest of scientists will never know? It's something one has to experience before they know. What was Marco supposed to tell her?

"She died," he said simply. "She's in a better place…" he said slowly, reciting what his own mother had always told him at funerals.

"Oh," said Rebecca, confused.

"When you get older, there are going to be people who will say to you that your mother didn't want you, but you've got to promise me that you know it is not true," said Marco, "at all."

Rebecca nodded. "I promise," she said, her face falling a little bit. "Why did she die?"

"She had problems," said Marco vaguely, not planning on going into detail. "As for your dad, you really should be happy that you never met him," he said bitterly.

"Why?" asked Rebecca. "Was he mean? Did he die too?"

"No, he's alive. He was…yes, he was definitely mean, if that's the word for it," said Marco.

"So, when did my mom die?" she asked.

"Three years ago," said Marco. "You've been here since you had just about turned a year old."

"I'm four now!" she exclaimed, jumping off the couch, and showing Marco four of her fingers. "No wonder I don't renemba…jeez."

Marco laughed again. "I know," he said. "Are you hungry? I think I'm just going to warm up some pasta from last night…that okay?" he asked.

Rebecca smiled in response, and sat quickly down at the table in the next room. Marco walked over to the refrigerator, pulling out a Tupperware to put in the microwave. While he was doing so, more questions came.

"How come you took me?" she asked, which caught Marco off guard.

"What do you mean?" he asked, turning away from the microwave, feeling his heart start to beat a bit faster.

"I love you, daddy, but how come not a family person? That's what happened in the book I read with Ellie. The orphan went to her Aunt…are you my real Uncle?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, turning back to the microwave, opening it, pronouncing it done, and putting it down in front of Rebecca.

"But you said you were only friends with my mom, and didn't like my dad," she said, confused.

"You're way too smart, you know what?" he asked. Rebecca scooped up a mouthful of her spaghetti, nodding giddily.

"I'm married to your blood Uncle…" said Marco, never ever wanting to say those words again, though truth was the best.

"You're married?" she asked.

"End of discussion," he said loudly.

Rebecca wasn't done with the discussion, but Marco had always let her ask anything she wanted, and she knew she shouldn't push him when he didn't. She simply enjoyed the rest of her meal in silence, every so often wondering why her Uncle was only staring blankly at his own.

Author's Note: I know. I know. It'll get better, I swear lol. I hope you liked it. Please review. Oh, and I'm going away for a couple of days, so I may not be able to write or have access to a computer. Leave me lots of nice reviews for when I get back, please .


	3. Babysitter

Author's Note: So, I'm still in Virginia, but I was able to type some from here :) Enjoy!

Marco got up Tuesday morning with a groan. He had to work. What was he going to do with Rebecca? He made the bed tiredly, glancing at the red numbers on the clock that showed it was five-thirty. It wasn't fair to make her get up so early.

He walked into the bathroom, deciding to shower before he was forced to wake her. Truthfully, he had no idea who was going to be able to take car of her for the day.

Taking his sweet time dressing, he slowly buttoned his shirt, and walked out into the kitchen at five fifty-seven. He usually arrived to work at seven, but normally his mother was home to watch her. Marco was sure Rebecca had seen his mother more than she saw him.

After Marco had about a dozen pancakes, (he knew they could use leftovers) he had to do what he'd been avoiding. He walked into Rebecca's tiny bedroom to wake her.

Marco stood in the doorway, watching his surrogate daughter sleep peacefully. For a moment, he considered calling in sick on the first full day of work, but he knew that would only make it harder to go in the day after. He sighed, and kneeled beside her bed.

"Becky," he said softly, poking her. "Rebecca, honey," he said, feeling so sorry when her eyes opened tiredly. She rubbed at them, stretching her arms above her head.

"Hmm?" she said, looking into his eyes.

"I have to work, remember?" asked Marco.

"Oh," she said. "Where am I going?" she asked, already halfway to her dresser. "What should I wear?" she asked, her finger on her chin in wonder.

"I don't know," said Marco, moving from his kneeling position to the top of the Barbie decorated sheets.

"You don't know what I should wear??" she asked, turning to him in shock.

"No," he laughed, "I don't know where you're going." The thought was still bothering him. He felt like a horrible caretaker when he couldn't figure out what to do with her when he wasn't around. Marco didn't think he could possibly take her to work. It would make the people he was with extremely uncomfortable talking to him.

Marco worked at Degrassi as the school social worker. He'd never pictured working in a school, and especially not Degrassi where so many people knew him, but he had mostly the entire summer home with Rebecca, and the hours were so much easier in a school. He'd dreamed of having his own private…but he hadn't planned on acquiring Rebecca. Marco's life was an example of how things don't turn out as planned.

Marco took his cell phone out from his pocket, supposing his only hope was Ellie.

"Hey, Ellie, I'm so sorry that it's so early…" said Marco. "Oh, yeah? So, you're leaving now? Oh…no, I just…it's fine. Thanks, bye."

Marco looked over at Rebecca, who had managed to find something suitable to wear, and was dressed. She frowned at him.

"No Ellie?" she asked. Marco shook his head.

"No Ellie," he repeated, checking his watch. "Six-twenty," he said aloud. "Come on, let's have breakfast." Marco suggested.

Rebecca followed Marco into the kitchen, her exhaustion fading as her eyes caught sight of the pancakes sitting in the middle of the table. She fled to the chair. Marco smiled.

"Going to have some, daddy?" she asked, piling three on her plate.

"What?" he asked, distracted. "Oh—oh, yeah, maybe in a minute," he said, still trying to figure out the situation.

He sat down at the table, leaning his head into one hand. "Daddy, you're married?" asked Rebecca, remembering their conversation from the day before. Marco looked up from his hands swiftly.

"I thought I said I didn't want to discuss this," said Marco.

"I know, but…how are you married…to a man?" Apparently, Marco had overestimated her. She was only four, with only so much knowledge of the world. How was she to know what a homosexual was? She looked extremely uncomfortable, as if she wished she hadn't asked.

"Yes," said Marco. Suddenly, he had an idea. Granted, he knew it was a terrible one, but he was absolutely _desperate _"Rebecca, would you be okay if he watched over you?" he asked.

She smiled. "I get to meet him?" she asked, excited. Marco couldn't help but smile.

"I forgot how long it's been since you've seen him," said Marco. "You done?" he asked.

She pushed her plate away from her, nodding. She pointed to him, which made him shrug. "I'll eat later. Go brush your teeth," he ordered.

Marco stared at his phone. Sure, he still had Dylan's cell phone number implanted into his brain, but it could have been changed. He had no clue where Dylan was living. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was in Canada. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up to Rebecca. She was so excited. Marco still had the same number, so maybe Dylan did as well.

How did he know Dylan would say yes? He couldn't believe he was going to do it. He picked up the phone, his hands shaking the entire time. HE dialed the numbers, feeling as if someone else was dialing for him.

"Hello," said the deep voice from the other line. Marco couldn't believe he was speaking to him, and he felt his throat go completely dry.

"Dylan," he said in a voice that was practically a whisper. "Dylan, this is Marco.

"Oh…" he said, obviously either not having looked at the caller id or not remembering who the number belonged to. "Marco, what are you…why…?" he stammered.

Marco laughed, unable to control it. It was the most awkward conversation he'd ever had.

"Look, I wouldn't ask you unless I really had no one else available. I need someone to watch Rebecca while I'm at work, and I can't stay home the first day. Would you please?" he felt himself ready to offer bags of money. If only he had any.

"No problem," said Dylan immediately. "I'd love to see her, anyway."

"She wants to 'meet' you," admitted Marco, putting a slight emphasis on the word. Dylan understood what he was talking about.

"All right, do you want me to bring her over there?" he asked. "I need to give you directions…"

"I know where you live," said Dylan.

"I meant directions about her. I don't know if I want you here with her…"

"You don't trust me in your apartment?" Dylan asked, feeling hurt.

"Fine," said Marco, deciding it might be better that way, anyhow. "Come here."

"I'll be right over," said Dylan, hanging up. It was odd to have the conversation after not hearing his voice for so long.

"He's coming? asked Rebecca, back in the kitchen again.

Marco nodded, feeling himself tense up at the thought. Had he really said Dylan could come over? Was it the right decision, or was he making one huge mistake?

"Honey, I'm sorry. I actually thought I was taking you out, so I woke you up, but if you're tired, you can go back to bed."

Rebecca shook her head, her earrings smacking her in the face as she did so. "It's okay," she said.

Finally, Dylan came face to face with Marco in the kitchen, surprising him. "You should have knocked," he said. "You don't need to remind me that you still kept your key."

Dylan shrugged, not wanting to start something. Tearing his eyes away from Marco, he instead turned to Rebecca.

"Hey, Rebecca," he said, smiling. He was surprised at the fact that she didn't shy away but put her arms not for him to embrace her. He was impressed. "I've missed you" said Dylan, gently stroking her hair.

"I sort of missed you too," she said, laughing.

Marco explained the rules the allergies, and how he's be home around three, ignoring the emotions that came to him when he looked at Dylan.

"Have a good time," said Marco, mainly speaking to Rebecca. "Love you," he kissed her cheek. He waved a careless good-bye to Dylan and walked out the door.

After the door closed, Dylan couldn't take his eyes off of the child. She'd grown so much, which was to be expected since it had been so long, but he couldn't believe that she was speaking in full sentences. He'd missed so much of her development.

Rebecca began to grow uncomfortable with the silence so she decided it needed to end.

"Want a pancake?" she offered, pointing to the table.

"Oh, no, but thank you," said Dylan. He walked into the living room and took a seat on the couch.

"So," she followed him, clapping her hands together when she arrived right in front of him, "what do I call you?" she asked.

"Well, I am your Uncle, so you could call me Uncle Dylan…or just Dylan…or anything, really. I mean, you may not see me again for too long."

Rebecca shrugged. "I stopped calling daddy 'Uncle Marco," she said, as if it were some major accomplishment.

Dylan was confused, so he tried to get the words straight in his mind. "You call Marco 'daddy'?" he asked.

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically. "I never knew my real daddy, but daddy said he wasn't very nice," she said with a frown.

Dylan agreed. "You're better off with Marco," he said, sighing.

"So, you and daddy are married?" she asked, comfortably crawling into Dylan's lap without a care. "How come you never see him?"

Dylan let out a huge sigh. "It's complicated," he said.

Rebecca, too, sighed. "Daddy says that about everything," she said, frustrated. "I thought you might tell me."

Dylan patted her head, understanding. "Don't think about it, all right?" he said. "So," he tried to change the subject, "what do you like to do?"

Her attention was successfully diverted as she explained how much she loved looking through the pop-up books with Marco's parents. She also talked about her obsession with Barbie, and asked if he wanted to see her room. Dylan followed her, chuckling at the eagerness.

"Wow," said Dylan, his eyes squinting at the bright pink walls. "The last time I was in here there was a crib with pure white walls. Now, I definitely see you've grown a personality," he said causing Rebecca to giggle.

"Come! Look!" she squealed, taking his head to lead him over to her closet. "Look at all the Barbie dolls," she said, sounding so proud.

"Wow," said Dylan again. "Daddy buys you all these?" he asked, still finding it strange to refer to Marco as 'daddy'.

"Mhmm," she said. "I collect them, so I'm trying to get every single one."

"How many are there?" he asked curiously.

"About three hundred," she said, smiling up at him. "Daddy loves me," she laughed, closing the closet door.

"I can see that," said Dylan. The two walked out of the room. Dylan followed Rebecca back into the living room, eyes searching for anything that might have been changed since the apartment had been his home. So far, he'd found everything was the same.

After they were seated on the couch again, Dylan felt it was his chance to speak. "You know, Marco and I…you knew about us. Did Ma…I mean, did daddy tell you?" he asked.

"Only yesterday," said Rebecca.

"Oh," said Dylan, feeling disappointed by that. Rebecca had only found out about him the day before. "He never mentioned me?" Rebecca shook her head.

"Well," said Dylan, "I—" he paused, hearing his phone ring. "I just have to answer this," he said slowly, looking for her permission. She didn't seem to have any problem with it.

"Hello," he said, making a note to actually check the called id once in a while. "Hey, baby," he said, "No…I—yeah, you didn't get my note?" he laughed. "Loser," he said good-naturedly. "Sure, I—what? No, I'll be home around three-thirty or something. It's not that far. Okay, yeah sure. I know! Bye." He closed his cell phone.

"Jeez," he rolled his eyes.

"Who was that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just my…my friend," he hesitated, not sure how much Rebecca had told Marco. He didn't think it would be a good idea to tell her about his boyfriend.

"I understand," said Marco, tapping his pen on his knee.

"It was fine, but now that I'm involved, I'm going to have to speak in court," said the distressed girl in his small office. "I mean, how can I say, in front of my mother, that I hate her, and I want to live with my dad? She thinks she's going to prison, and that I'll get her out of it."

"It's going to be difficult," he agreed. "Are you dealing with the divorce okay?"

Alicia shrugged. "That's the least of my worries right now. At least, I'd never have to see my mom in the mornings." She sighed. "Thank you for taking me without an appointment," she said, getting up from her chair.

"No problem" said Marco, glancing at the clock to see that there was only a minute left until the last bell rang. "Anytime, Alicia." He shook her hand, then quickly led her out of his office. He signed out in the main office, trying to avoid any conversations with teachers.

"Daddy should be home soon," said Dylan, not sure if he was looking forward to that or not.

"I know," she said, trying to put a pink dress on the Barbie doll she was playing with. Apparently, she was getting married that day…in a pink dress.

The door of the apartment opened only a second later, and a weary looking Marco walked in. He smiled at Rebecca's attempts to be the priest, marrying the Barbie doll to Ken.

He caught Dylan's eye, and Dylan shrugged. "Barbie's getting married," he clarified.

"I see," said Marco, laughing. "Thank you so much," said Marco, not trying to show how desperate he had been. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble," said Marco.

"No trouble at all, and until hockey starts up again, I've got nothing to do with my day, anyway."

"Oh," said Marco, turning to Rebecca, "was Dylan a good baby-sitter?" he asked.

Rebecca nodded, waving a hand that clearly said she wanted to be left alone. There was a wedding going on, for pity's sake.

"I know I shouldn't be asking you this," said Marco, looking down. He knew he had no other choice, but he really wished he didn't have to see him again. It felt as though he was asking for him to be back with him when all he wanted was Dylan to watch him. It was only fair, right? Marco got to go to work. Dylan was able to spend time with his niece. They only had to see each other for a few minutes each day. It was the perfect arrangement.

"You want me to watch her again?" he asked, having expected it when he said there was no one else.

"Would you?" Marco asked.

Dylan nodded. "I'd be happy to, Marco." He grabbed his coat off the bed, and walked out the door. He thought about saying good-bye, but decided against it. It probably wouldn't have been for the best.


	4. What's best for us?

Author's Note: I really need to know what's going on with this, so please help. See, I know on The N, Free Fallin' part one comes on this coming Friday. I cheated, and saw it online. Bad me, I know. However, on the schedule, it doesn't show another episode for weeks and weeks. It can't be going on another break, can it? I mean, Free Fallin' part one ENDS the break. They can't have a break, then one episode, then another break! Does anyone know what's going on??

Marco and Rebecca were falling steadily into a routine. Dylan had been watching Rebecca for almost a week, and it was becoming much less awkward for Marco. Though, the 'getting used to it' part did make him feel nervous.

"Rebecca's asleep," said Marco, zipping up his jacket. "It doesn't matter when she gets up."

"Makes the job easy," said Dylan, as always, he avoided Marco's eyes.

"There's plenty of food in the fridge," said Marco, trying to remember if there was something he was forgetting.

"All right, Marco," said Dylan. "Good-bye."

"Bye," he said, finally leaving.

Dylan laughed when Marco closed the door behind him. Everything always had to be perfect for that boy. It was amazing that he hadn't yet driven himself insane.

Dylan took his seat on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television. Was _anything _on? Not likely, considering it was six in the morning on a Friday. He finally found the Pursuit of Happiness. He thought it couldn't hurt to watch just a little bit. He remembered when he and Marco were on the same couch watching a similar movie, and he turned it off. It was much too emotional for him. The movie, of course! Not the thought of Marco or anything like that.

"_Wait, I'm so confused," said Dylan, laughing. "Who's that guy now?" he asked._

_Marco lifted his head from Dylan's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "He' s just some man, Dylan. He's not even involved in the plot."_

"_Well, then why is he even there?" he asked._

_Marco rolled his eyes, resuming his position. "Just watch the movie."_

Marco had always been into those sad movies. They weren't Dylan's type, which is why he had specifically told Marco many times that he should watch them with Paige; she'd cry with him. Marco always gave him the same answer, though.

"I like it better watching with you, Dylan," he'd say.

Dylan sighed. He supposed he wasn't going to watch any television that morning. He walked into the kitchen to check out the refrigerator.

"There's leftover pancakes," he said to himself.

"Oh, good!"

Dylan jumped up immediately, putting his hand over his heart. "You scared me," he said, laughing.

Rebecca smiled as she sat down at the table in her pink pajamas. "Can you heat some up for me?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, turning back to pull the Tupperware out of the refrigerator.

The two ate their pancakes in silence. Dylan distracted himself by staring at the pair of jeans on the couch. How had Marco missed that? When Dylan lived there, he'd have never seen any of Marco's clothes lying around. It simply didn't happen.

Dylan laughed at how the strangest little things caught his interest. "What's funny?" Rebecca asked, confused. Dylan was amazed at how quickly she'd finished three pancakes.

"Does daddy usually leave his pants on the couch?" he asked.

Rebecca shook her head. "Nooo, never," she said, "but lately, he's been too busy."

"I see," said Dylan, trying not to laugh again. "Should I put them away?" he asked the little girl.

She shrugged. "Do you know where they go?" she asked.

Dylan knew she didn't mean any harm by her question, but Dylan still had to fight the urge to yell at her, to tell her he did, indeed, know where the pants went in the apartment. It just caused him more pain than he would have liked to realize that, unless Marco had needed someone to watch Rebecca, he really wasn't welcomed.

Not that he cared, of course, if Marco only wanted him around to take care of Rebecca. He had a boyfriend. A good boyfriend. A **very **good boyfriend. A fantastic boyfriend. They were together all the time! They agreed on so many things, were a lot alike, and had so many of the same interests. That entire sentence basically said the same thing. It didn't matter because they were close. That was the point he'd been trying to make to himself, anyway. Besides, Ryan loved him. That was more than he could say for his own husband.

So, why were they still married? It was completely obvious they weren't going to ever see light in their relationship again, so it should have ended years before. Dylan found himself in two minds on the subject. Dylan didn't wear his wedding ring because it would let his boyfriend know that…well, Ryan didn't exactly know he was married.

Separated. Perhaps, that's what their relationship had turned into. A separation. In separations, one is allowed to date, right? Though, he wasn't too sure either one of his men would see it that way. His _men_? He only had one man.

"Uncle Dylan…" said Rebecca cautiously, breaking him out of his reverie. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he answered. "Just thinking."

"I slept pretty late today," she said proudly, licking her fingers to get rid of the remaining syrup.

Dylan shuddered when he could feel the stickiness run through his own body from just looking at her.

"Yes, you did," he said softly. "Maybe you should wash your hands," he advised.

"Okay," she said, jumping off the chair, and running to the bathroom.

Dylan smiled. She always seemed to be so eager to do anything you asked her to. Nothing was bad in her world.

"You have no idea how scary the word is until it happens," said Maria, another one of Marco's more common students. "I mean, it's like, it's happened to so many people I know, but I never thought it would be this horrible."

Marco nodded. Divorce really did seem to be becoming a theme, especially with the poor students who would come in to tell him stories about the latest problems with which parent was getting custody of them and so on. He tried to be sympathetic with all of them, but Maria was the one who really touched his heart.

_You have no idea how scary the word is until it happens. _That was so true. Of course, Marco didn't know what kind of situation he was facing in his own relationship, but he hated to watch the children go through something they couldn't control either way. It also made him consider Rebecca's part again.

"Well, do your parents fight frequently?" he asked.

She nodded. "They didn't used to," she said, "but over the past year or so, that's all it is. Everything he does wrong, everything she _doesn't _do. I can't handle it."

"Then, maybe this is good. I know that's hard to hear, but if they're apart, they won't fight as much, right?" said Marco.

"I guess that's true…but it still doesn't make it any easier," she said honestly.

"The truth is, it's going to be hard no matter what, but you're going to make it through, Maria," said Marco. "You just need to accept that it's going to happen, and never ever think that this is, in any way, your fault."

"And there's the bell," she said, laughing. "I never get to finish," she said, shaking her head.

"If it weren't ninth period, I'd keep you longer. Next time, we'll make it earlier, all right?" said Marco.

"Thank you, Mr. Del Rossi," said Maria, closing the office door behind her. Marco rubbed his temples for a moment, calming himself down from the stressful day. He could make it home.

Marco checked Maria off his list, and walked into the main office. He signed out for the day, walking out to the parking lot to get into his car. He never liked socializing with the teachers, if that wasn't obvious enough.

As he drove home in the pouring rain, he realized he had a lot to think about. Dylan had been watching Rebecca for a week straight. He hadn't asked for money or even expected it. He'd taken care of her better than Marco expected, and he had to do something for him, didn't he? No. Dylan wanted to see Rebecca. It was, like, a reward for him.

Though Dylan leaving the apartment hadn't been a mutual decision, Marco keeping Rebecca there had been. Rebecca was his responsibility. How did it look that he needed Dylan's help to raise her? Was that why Dylan was making it so easy? Did he want to prove to Marco that he was just Mr. Perfect? Was he trying to prove to Marco that he couldn't do it on his own?

"Relax, Marco," he told himself, slowing down as he reached a stop sign. He looked around for a moment, and then took off again. "He may not be trying to do anything at all. He probably was just excited for the chance to see his niece. That's probably it."

Realizing he was talking to himself again, he figured he needed another confidant besides Rebecca. He obviously couldn't tell her everything he was feeling, and he was getting sick of talking to himself on the car rides home.

Marco opened the door to his apartment with a weary sigh. All he saw was Dylan sitting on the couch, playing with the remote. He didn't move when he heard Marco walk through the door.

"Where's Rebecca?" he asked, causing Dylan to turn in his direction.

"In her room. I think another Barbie is getting married today," he said softly.

"Oh," said Marco, putting his keys down on the counter. "I'm just going to—"

"Wait, Marco," said Dylan, taking his arm before he got the chance to walk into Rebecca's room. "I've been thinking," he said, waiting for Marco to respond. He was hoping Marco would pull his arm away, tell him it was all right for him to leave, or something that completely avoided the conversation. For once in his life, Dylan didn't want Marco to listen. For once in his life, Marco listened.

"Yes?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Dylan didn't plan the words beforehand. He didn't put them in any specific order because he was sure Marco wasn't going to want to hear it, so he decided to just get right to the point.

"We need a divorce."

Marco stood still, not blinking. He didn't know how to reply to such a statement. He briefly thought about what Maria had said in his office, and he felt it hit him straight on. No. He would not do it.

"No," he said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Marco, what…what do you want from me?" he asked. "You threw me out—"

"—And was I wrong to do so?" he interrupted. "Was I, Dylan?"

"That's not the point!" Dylan yelled, having been prepared for that. "The point is you don't want to be with me. Why are we still holding onto this?" he asked, his voice breaking, as he brought it down to a whisper.

Marco shook his head again. "No," he said, not offering an explanation to Dylan's question. "No," he repeated, knowing the word really didn't make any sense with anything Dylan had said.

"No?" asked Dylan, becoming frustrated. "No, what?"

"I refuse to believe," said Marco, well aware that he was shouting, and that there were tears in his eyes, "that things have gotten this bad!"

"Well, you have to stop pr—"

"Daddy?" asked Rebecca meekly, coming out of her room, looking up at them sadly. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Marco lowered his voice, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes. He walked over to her, giving her a hug.

"Nothing, Becky," he said calmly, silently praying that she would always be there.

"Nuh-huh," she said, pulling away from him. "You're fighting."

"Everything's okay," said Marco. "Please go back to your room. We're leaving in about an hour to have dinner with Ellie and Jesse." He smiled.

Rebecca squealed excitedly, forgetting all about her worries while she ran back to her room. Marco's smile faded when he turned back to Dylan.

"As I was saying," said Dylan, "you need to stop pretending that everything is fine."

"Everything is fine," said Marco, keeping his voice just above a whisper to prevent disturbing Rebecca again.

"Marco, you know that's not true, and you know this isn't right! I don't understand what you want!" said Dylan, feeling a large headache coming on from all of the chaos. "Do you want us to stay married forever? We just have to avoid being near each other at all costs, of course. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Quiet," Marco warned. "It was working just fine, wasn't it?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Sure. Until I have to explain to my boyfriend that I'm actually married! That'll be an amazing experience, I'm sure."

Dylan couldn't believe he'd said it. He'd known it was going to come out at some point, but for some reason, saying it to Marco made him feel sick.

"I get it now," said Marco. "That's the only reason you want this divorce!" he raised his voice again, deciding he really didn't care anymore. Rebecca was smart enough to realize what was going on. "You don't care about anyone but yourself. God, Dylan!"

"You shouldn't have started anything with someone if you knew you were going to have to explain the marriage thing," Marco continued. "Or maybe…you didn't think you were going to get anywhere with him. That it? Oh, or maybe you just forgot you were married at all until I asked you to watch Rebecca."

"Look at who is talking here," said Dylan. "All you seem to want to do is just forget all your problems. I'm actually doing you a favor here by babysitting Rebecca. I could have just said no, and been able to spend more time with my _boyfriend." _The sickness from the word had gone. Some disgusting part of him seemed to want to rub it in Marco's face. Moods change so quickly.

"You know what, I'm just glad I found out about him before he found out about me. Somehow," said Marco, "I feel like that makes me win."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "You know that divorce is the only decision."

"No," said Marco. "You know that you only decided on divorce, like, today, which means you actually got a brain, and thought to yourself, 'I may be into something serious with my boyfriend now. I have to end this marriage quickly, so I won't have any ties.' I have to admit, I'm impressed that you waited this long for the thought to cross your mind. Wait," Marco thought for a moment before speaking, "how long _have _you been with this boy?" he asked.

"That's not your business," he said, sighing.

"Not my business? Really? Would you care to tell me what is my business?"

"About nine months," said Dylan, deciding he might as well tell Marco. It couldn't hurt.

"Wow, an entire pregnancy. I'm impressed. How many others are there, babe?" he asked, turning his head to one side.

Dylan shook his head. "I am leaving now, but this conversation is not over. Am I coming back Monday?" he asked.

"Rebecca would tell me if you were to steal anything, and I know you'd never hurt her, so what do I have to lose?" said Marco.

"This is for Rebecca," said Dylan, making sure Marco understood. "It's not for you."

"Dylan, nothing you do is for me," said Marco.

A/N: Please review:)


	5. Love and Marriage

Author's Note: I hate The N. Most of you have already realized that, but I thought I'd give you all a reminder. I hate it, and it's so irritating. June 29th. We don't see Free Fallin' until then. I mean…I've already seen it online, but you get what I mean. Jeez. I also hate bronchitis and pneumonia lol. Wow, I complain so much when I'm sick.

Marco was left alone in the living room after Dylan slammed his apartment door shut. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, putting his hand on his forehead.

"Rebecca," he called out gently. "We're going."

Rebecca didn't reply, but Marco heard her rummaging through her closet for a jacket, so he knew she had heard him. She ran out of the room a second later, smiling and ready.

"Daddy, come on!" she said, pulling his hand as though he had been taking too long to move.

"I'm coming," said Marco, allowing himself to be pulled out the door, closing it gently behind him.

Marco stood on the top of the stairs, waiting for Ellie to come to the door. Rebecca began to get impatient after only a few seconds.

"Ring it again, daddy," she begged, pulling on his shirt, irritating him. "Ring it again."

"Ellie will—" Marco's statement was interrupted by the door being opened by the girl in question.

"Sorry," she said immediately. "I was upstairs."

Rebecca walked in, looking to see if anything was different since the last time she'd been there. Jesse, who had just walked off the last step, scooped her into his arms.

"Hey, you," he said, smiling brightly. Rebecca was quite surprised. Jesse didn't normally show too much emotion with her. It was usually a hello and a good-bye.

Rebecca caught Marco's eye, and he shrugged. "Daddy," she said, "how come we can't have a house like this?"

"Let me just take her back," Marco laughed, grabbing her out of Jesse's arms, and walking into the kitchen with them.

"We don't need a house like this…we have our apartment," he readjusted his hold on her so that she wasn't falling.

"Yeah, but—"

"Not _now, _please," said Marco to the restless girl in his arms. He let her go as soon as they reached the table.

"She's eager to eat," Jesse noted with a smile, putting his arm around Ellie's waist.

Marco threw his hands in the air. "All right, I give up!" he said, feeling as though they were hiding some huge secret from him.

"You want to tell him?" Ellie asked her boyfriend, looking up at him.

Rebecca didn't look as curious as Marco. In fact, she didn't seem to care about anything but dinner. "Can we eat now?" she asked, keeping her voice to the most polite tone she could manage while her hunger was taking over.

Ellie laughed. "Yes," she said. "Oh, and I didn't cook. Jesse did," she told Marco, slapping his arm playfully when he mouthed a 'thank you' to the ceiling.

Though Marco was extremely interested in finding out what his friend had to say, he was also quite as hungry as the little girl sitting next to him, so he kept his mouth shut when he had a plate placed in front of him.

After everyone was finished, even Rebecca remembered the conversation started before they had begun. She looked expectantly at Ellie, causing the older female to laugh.

"You want to know?" she asked.

Rebecca continued to stare at her, raising an eyebrow to show how impatient she was. Jesse put his hand over Ellie's, then nodded his head.

"We're getting married," they said simultaneously.

Marco had been expecting something like that to happen, but for some reason, he reacted with shock.

"Seriously?" he asked, smiling.

Ellie nodded, getting up from her chair, and walking over to the other side of the room. She hugged him tightly, and he kissed her cheek. He was so happy for her, and she'd reacted in the same way when he told her about his engagement. Why the hell would he remind himself of that?

"Anyway," she pulled away, taking a deep breath, "we're hoping to have the wedding relatively soon. I don't want, like, a century-long engagement," she laughed. Marco had never seen her so excited in his life.

Rebecca saw that Marco and Ellie were hugging, so she decided to spread her own joy. She walked over to where Jesse was sitting, and gave him a huge and unexpected hug.

Jesse was surprised, to say the least, but he hugged her back, being too happy to wonder. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks, sweetie," said Jesse, looking over at his fiancé with loving eyes, and Marco suddenly felt that he was intruding on something.

"We have to go," he said mechanically, unable to find an excuse. "I just remembered…Rebecca and I have something important to take care of."

Ellie raised her eyebrows. "Okay?" she said, though Marco could tell she wasn't too upset about getting to spend the rest of the night alone with Jesse. That had been the reason Marco wanted to go, anyway. They didn't need him there.

"What do we have to do, daddy?" asked Rebecca, after he had strapped her into the car seat.

"Nothing," said Marco, pulling the car out of the driveway. Rebecca was right. They had such a beautiful house.

"You lied?" she asked, appalled. She couldn't believe that Marco, her perfect 'father', would ever tell his friends a lie.

"It was a lie that prevented me from being mean," said Marco. "I'm happy for them, damnit," he said, not looking back at her.

Rebecca stopped talking, sensing the angry tone in Marco's voice that she never heard him use. It had only been earlier that day that she'd discovered his true anger, which was when he was fighting with Dylan. She didn't want to bother him when he was so unhappy. Why did he say he was happy for them if he wasn't? It didn't make sense to her.

Marco finally turned the car down the familiar road that led to their apartment. Rebecca waited patiently and silently for Marco to take her out of her seat. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she didn't want to make it worse.

"Daddy?" she decided to risk it once he was taking off his jacket in the living room.

"Yes?" he turned to her quickly, wanting her question or comment. Not a conversation.

"Nothing," she replied, looking down at the ground. Marco knew he had hurt her feelings by screaming for no particular reason in the car.

He sighed, crouching so that he could be at her level. He gently tilted her head up.

"What's up?" he asked.

"How come you're sad?" she asked.

Marco ran a hand through his hair, trying to come up with an easy way to make her understand.

"Don't," she warned, "say it's complicated."

Marco laughed. "You know, I was just about to say that," he said, wondering when he had become so predictable.

He took her hand, leading her to her bedroom. It was uncomfortable crouching on the floor, and she needed to get ready to go to sleep anyway.

"Well," he started, tossing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt onto the bed where she lay. "I am happy for Ellie and Jesse."

"But?" said Rebecca, getting changed as she spoke.

"I guess I just…don't know how I'm going to watch them get married. I mean, I screwed up my own marriage…"

"How?" asked Rebecca, climbing back under the covers. Marco closed the drawer with his hip.

"Now, _that _is complicated," said Marco.

Rebecca groaned. "Everything is!"

"When you're four, yes," said Marco, turning off the lamp on her bedside table. He kissed her cheek. "Good-night."

"Daddy?" she called out, stopping him from walking out of the room. He turned around, leaning onto the doorknob, waiting.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"If you and my uncle get a divorce, what's going to happen?" she asked, frowning.

Marco closed his eyes in frustration. Her curiosity was beginning to bother him. What did she mean 'what's going to happen'?

"We are not getting a divorce," he said confidently, turning to walk out again.

"But if you did—"

"We are not," he said, ending the conversation, and closing her door over.

Marco walked into his bedroom, set a chair by his closet door, and stepped up onto it. He could just barely reach the top shelf even with the chair, but he managed to grab the box he'd been looking for. He knew it was too high up for him, which is why he'd put it up there. He didn't want to look at it.

The photo on top, framed in gold, was the one he'd been looking for. He took a deep breath as he ran his fingers over it gently. His wedding picture. There had been many, actually. There were at least ten in that box, but he had begged for that one to be framed, being the most beautiful one of them all.

The wedding had been held in the Michalchuk family's backyard. It had truly been the happiest day of Marco's life, and it still was when he thought about it, which wasn't often. Photographers had been dying to get a picture of the two of them, so they'd taken so many, but all Dylan and Marco wanted was to be left alone, even with all of the people they had invited.

Dylan had finally given in, telling the photographer he'd be right back with his husband. However, Dylan didn't care to mention to Marco that their picture was going to be taken. He tapped his shoulder, turned him around, and closed the gap between them. Every head turned to them at that moment. Marco realized that his picture had been taken, and was annoyed with it, but when he saw later how it had turned out, he hung it up on the wall. Most amazing kiss in history.

Marco picked up the next picture. It was torn down the middle. Marco didn't even remember why he'd done that. The picture was of himself with Paige, right before the wedding. He had his arm around her, and they were both smiling ecstatically. They were both so damn _happy. _What happened?

He felt the tears come to his eyes when he came across a photo that included all three of them, Paige, Dylan, and Marco, directly after the reception. He missed her so much. Slowly and carefully, he ripped the picture in half. He ripped it again, and he ripped it again. He couldn't look at it…he just couldn't stare into the smiling faces of his no-longer-loving husband and dead friend. He couldn't even look at the smiling face of himself because he wasn't sure he'd ever be that joyful again.

"Don't cry," he told himself angrily. "You don't need to start losing it." It didn't matter, though. Once the tears started falling, there was no stopping them.

"Paige," he said, cursing himself. Why the hell had he ripped the picture up? Honestly, sometimes his mind just ran away from him. "Paige, I'm sorry," he said, the tears falling freely down his face. "I'm so sorry." For ripping the picture? For her death? He didn't know why he was apologizing, but it didn't matter.

"Everything is so screwed up," he said, laying down onto the bed, and curling his body into a ball. "Everything is just…ruined."

Marco awoke the next morning, forgetting why he'd ended up in that position. Small pieces of the picture he'd ripped were scattered on the floor, and his eyes were red from crying himself to sleep. He glanced at the clock next to his bedside.

"Nine," he said, sitting up. He was surprised Rebecca hadn't come in to wake him up already.

Marco grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt at random, and took a peek into Rebecca's room. She was still sleeping. Very unusual, but he was thankful for it. He walked into the bathroom with his clothes, taking his time with his shower, knowing he had nothing important to do except for thinking, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

When he was finally done, he saw Rebecca sitting on the floor in the living room, watching cartoons. She didn't even budge when he walked past her. He laughed. She was so engrossed in the television to even notice his presence.

Marco sat down on a stool behind the kitchen counter, listening to Rebecca giggle while she watched her television shows. That was the only thing that seemed to make him even remotely happy anymore, listening to her laugh. Surprisingly, there was a knock at his door.

"Who's that?" asked Rebecca, turning to look at him.

Marco shrugged. "I'm just going to have to find out," he said, walking to the door. Rebecca watched, always entertained by surprises.

Marco was not quite so fond of them. "El?" he said, not happy with the look on her face.

"Dylan didn't think you'd open the door for him after your 'fight', which you didn't tell me about," she said, "so that's the only reason I agreed to bring these for him. Otherwise, I would have made him do it himself, but he's not home now, anyway, so don't…call him or anything," she sounded very uncomfortable, still holding the papers to her chest.

"What?" Marco asked, reaching his hand out. She handed them over immediately, as if one more second would burn her.

"Divorce papers…" he whispered, reading the words over and over again.

"Marco…" she said, wondering if she was supposed to stay or leave.

"You know where he lives, Ellie," said Marco. It wasn't a question.

"Well, yes," she rubbed the back of her neck with her left hand nervously.

"Tell me where it is, and how to get there," he demanded.

"Before I do, you ought to know, there's someone else who—"

"I know! I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "Wait a second," he turned to her, "you knew he had a boyfriend, and you didn't tell me?"

"Here's how you get there," she said, avoiding his question, and explaining to him the easiest way to get there.

"Thanks," said Marco, trying not to be too angry with her that she'd somewhat known about his boyfriend, and didn't let him know. "What's his name?"

"The boyfriend?" Marco nodded. "Ryan. Why?" she asked.

Marco shrugged. "Just wanted to know. Thanks for dropping these off, Ellie," he said, referring to the divorce papers. Ellie nodded, then walked out. Rebecca watched in awe as Marco threw the papers around. Mood swing.

"Becky, honey, you want to take a drive?" he asked, though Rebecca didn't think she had a choice because he was already grabbing his jacket and keys. She grabbed her own jacket, and followed him out the door.

"Why are we here?" asked Rebecca, knocking loudly on the door.

"I need to speak with someone," said Marco.

"Yeah, but Ellie said—"

Rebecca stopped mid-sentence when she saw the door open. "Hello?" said the man, looking as if he'd just woken up.

"Hi, you must be Ryan. I'm Marco, Dylan's husband."

Author's Note: Make me happy. Review?


	6. Paradise Lost

Author's Note: Chapter six for all of you. I'm so drugged up right now on four sleeeeeepy medications lol.

"Wh—what?" asked Ryan, obviously shocked. Marco couldn't blame the boy, and honestly felt a tiny bit sorry for him. Just a tiny bit.

Ryan rubbed at his eyes, wondering if he might have just have been dreaming.

"I'm Dylan's husband," said Marco again, trying to keep the pain out of his voice, "and this is…uh, Rebecca." He didn't know how else to introduce her.

Ryan looked completely stunned, making Marco sigh. "Can I come in?" he asked. Ryan immediately moved over, not knowing what else to do, running into his bedroom to grab a shirt.

Marco looked around, seeing pictures of his husband everywhere. No matter how many times he thought about Dylan being with someone else, it was still weird to see him there in pictures with another man.

He walked over to one picture that sat on the coffee table of Ryan with Dylan, letting Rebecca sit down on the couch.

"I'm back," said Ryan uncomfortably, walking back into the room fully-clothed. He looked incredibly confused and hurt. Marco didn't blame him a bit. "So, what are you here for again?"

Marco bit his lip. What was he there for? Simply to inform Ryan of his lying boyfriend? That didn't seem like a good enough reason to come.

"Dylan is my husband," said Marco. "He doesn't belong to you." The words didn't sound as good coming out of his mouth as they did in his head.

"I heard you the second time you said it," said Ryan, "but I trust my boyfriend more than I believe some random guy coming into my apartment." However, Marco could tell he looked nervous. Somewhere in his heart, he thought it could be true.

"Why would I lie about this?" asked Marco, shushing Rebecca because when she opened her mouth, he knew nothing good would come out.

"Maybe…" Ryan looked as though he was trying to convince himself rather than tell Marco why he thought he was there, "you're Dylan's ex-boyfriend, and you want him to leave me…"

"Or maybe," Marco suggested, "I'm really his husband, and he's been lying to you for, what was it, nine months?"

Ryan put his hand on his temples in confusion and frustration. "If you are his husband," said Ryan, "then why didn't you come nine months ago?"

Marco frowned, gesturing for Ryan to sit next to him in order for them to talk better. "I didn't know about you nine months ago," he said.

Ryan looked him in the eyes, finally remembering Rebecca was there. "How long have you known?" he asked.

"Only since yesterday," he said honestly.

"Who are you, sweetheart?" Ryan asked Rebecca, pretending he wasn't having an emotional breakdown.

"Dylan's my Uncle!" she said excitedly. She had been waiting for the moment he would ask her that. "And Marco's my daddy."

Marco put his head in his hands, thinking about how weird that must have sounded to Ryan. Their family made sense to no one except for Rebecca.

"I'm not her father," said Marco, making sure Ryan was aware that he didn't actually "have" Rebecca. "She is Dylan's niece, though. She lives with me." The explanation just kept getting stranger and stranger.

"Why the hell does she live with you?" asked Ryan.

"You're avoiding the important topic, and don't curse in front of her!" said Marco angrily. "Her mother is dead, and her father is incapable of taking care of her. Dylan and I used to together, but…this isn't your business. All you need to do is end your relationship with my husband. Do you understand me?"

"I'm not ending anything!" exclaimed Ryan, looking extremely put out. "I shouldn't have to! I didn't do anything wrong."

Marco sighed, putting his hand comfortingly on Ryan's leg. He couldn't believe he was feeling sorry for his husband's boyfriend.

"You didn't, I agree," said Marco, "but something bad is going on, and I can't end it, so you have to."

"I ha—"

The apartment door flew open as Dylan entered the room, dropping the bags he held in his hand in shock. He stared at Marco, Rebecca, and Ryan sitting on the couch.

Marco stared back at him, expressionless. "M—Marco," said Dylan, not expecting to ever see the two men in one room together.

"Dylan, I think we have to talk," said Ryan, holding back tears of anger because it definitely looked like Marco hadn't been lying.

"I think I have to go," said Marco, getting up from the couch, and taking Rebecca's hand.

Marco and Rebecca walked out of the room with a quick wave good-bye from Rebecca.

"You're married?!" screamed Ryan, losing his patience.

"Well, I…" said Dylan, starting to pick everything he'd dropped. He moved into the bedroom with Ryan following right behind him. "I might be…a little bit…married," he said, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"A little bit," Ryan repeated, no longer screaming, but tears were evident. "You didn't think I might want to know?"

"I…" Dylan didn't really know what to say. "I'm an idiot."

"I love you, Dylan," said Ryan. "Now I know why you've never felt the same way. I thought if I just gave you more time…but there's someone else for you."

"Ryan—"

"I can't trust you anymore. How do I know everything you've ever told me hasn't been a lie?" he asked.

"I never lied to you about anything else, I swear!" said Dylan. "I want to be with you. I don't want to be with Marco. We're—we're getting divorced." So, it wasn't the whole truth, but it was close enough. He'd made the suggestion for divorce, at least.

Ryan shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You don't feel the way about me that you do about Marco, and that's not fair."

"I love you," said Dylan, taking Ryan's hand, saying those words for the first time after nine months of being together. "I love you," he repeated.

"No, you don't," said Ryan. "You're just trying to fix things!"

"How do you know?" asked Dylan, trying to prevent the inevitable break-up. "Why won't you just believe me?"

"Because all you've ever done is lie to me!" said Ryan.

"So, Ryan is Uncle Dylan's boyfriend?" asked Rebecca, talking with Marco on the living room couch. "Is he allowed to do that?"

"No," said Marco. "He's not, really, but rules don't apply to Dylan Michalchuk."

"How come?" she asked.

"That was, well, sarcastic," said Marco. "Forget it."

"Is he mad at you? Is that why you're getting divorced?" asked Rebecca, more confused than ever, and wanting some answers.

"Our marriage being ruined goes a bit beyond anger, but he's very angry with me now," said Marco, nodding.

"Why? What did you do?" she asked.

"You know what!" he replied. "I won't divorce him. I'm hungry," he said, getting up from the couch.

"You are not!" said Rebecca. "You just don't wanna talk about this!"

"Apparently," said Marco when he heard the knock on the door, "I don't have to talk about it." Rebecca giggled.

However, he wasn't looking forward to finding out who the person behind the door was either.

He opened the door calmly, leaning into his hip impatiently. "Why are you here?" he asked without a greeting.

"Sign the papers," he said softly.

"He threw the papers!" said Rebecca. Marco and Dylan looked over at her.

"Telling on me?" asked Marco, raising an eyebrow.

Rebecca shrugged guiltily.

"Why the hell won't you just sign the papers?" Dylan grabbed onto Marco's shoulders, turning him around to bring him back into their conversation. "I don't understand you at all."

"What happened with your boyfriend?" he asked, smirking.

"He dumped me. Thanks. What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"I feel like you've asked me that question ten thousand times," said Marco, rolling his eyes. He turned to Rebecca, sitting on the couch. "Go to your room," he said.

For the first time in a while, Rebecca actually put up an argument. "I don't want to go to my room!" she shouted, jumping up off the couch, and walking over to where they were with her arms crossed. "I want to hear."

"Rebecca," said Marco slowly.

"Daddy," she said back to him in the same way.

"Whatever," said Dylan. "She can hear. As I was sa—"

"No, I don't want her to hear," said Marco, putting his hand angrily on his hip. "It's not appropriate for her.

"Just because you don't want to admit anything is wrong, you won't let her hear," said Dylan, shaking his head. "You amaze me. Okay, maybe she shouldn't hear, but if she's not going to go to her room, we still have to go on with the conversation."

"We have nothing to talk about," said Marco. "Go try to get that boy back if he means so much to you. You and I haven't talked for so long. Why now? No reason. Good-bye."

Rebecca sighed, realizing her father no longer cared if she was there because he'd gotten distracted. She'd been prepared for a fight, and she wanted one.

"I shouldn't have to go," she complained, "every time he comes over to talk."

"He shouldn't come over at all. Don't make me angry right now, Rebecca," said Marco, turning back to her.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Daddy, it's not fair. I want to know what's going to happen to me if you get a divorce!"

"Not that again," said Marco, smacking his hand to his forehead. "We're not getting divorced." He wasn't talking to Rebecca anymore, but instead, Dylan.

"We are," said Dylan. "Marco, just tell me why we're together."

"Tell me why it matters," said Marco. "You don't even have Ryan anymore, so what's the hurry for the divorce?"

Dylan sighed. "Marco, you don't love me anymore," he said, bringing his voice to a calm level, trying to show Marco how ridiculous it sounded to stay together.

"I—" Marco looked over at Rebecca, trying to avoid responding to Dylan's statement. "Rebecca, why are you so worried about us getting divorced?" he asked.

"Stop it, Marco!" said Dylan, beginning to get angry. "I'm trying to do this calmly, but you won't take this seriously!"

"Because you will get a divorce," she said. "I don't want you to."

Dylan smiled sympathetically, turning to Rebecca for the first time since he arrived. "If daddy and I do this, it won't affect you at all; I promise, Rebecca."

She shook her head. "It _will!"_ she argued.

Marco and Dylan looked at each other before turning back to the girl in front of them. "It won't," they said together.

"I have no parents," she cried. "I just had daddy, but then I met you! Now, you're gonna leave forever because you don't love me. I thought that…" she hesitated, looking embarrassed.

"You thought what?" asked Dylan, crouching down to her height.

Rebecca blushed, whispering, "I thought when you came back to watch me, you'd be coming back to stay."

Dylan closed his eyes, taking a ragged breath. "I ca…Rebecca, I just," he stopped, looking up from his position at Marco with tears in his eyes, "I just…" He stood up, preferring to look down at Marco. "Marco, sign them, and I'll leave."

"Dylan, I—"

"Don't leave!" yelled Rebecca.

"I'll be back on Monday, sweetie, to watch you," said Dylan, appeasing her. "That is, if I'm still wanted."

Marco nodded, knowing that if he had just been able to find someone else to watch Rebecca, this drama would have never begun.

"Actually," said Dylan, coming up with a plan, "I'll come _if _you sign the papers."

"Oh, please don't make conditions with me," said Marco, walking past both of them to get some Advil from the kitchen cabinet.

"Headache?" asked Rebecca, trying to hide the fact that there were tears on her face. They both followed them into the kitchen.

"God, I'm so **sick **of this!" said Marco, resisting the urge to throw the can of medicine at the wall.

"You'll never deal with me again," Dylan reminded him.

"Our marriage is not over," said Marco, refusing to admit the obvious.

"Let me ask you one question," said Dylan, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Answer this honestly. Why do you not want to end this? Give me one good reason. Obviously, we're not trying to work the marriage out, so what's the point?"

"It's not necessary," Marco replied.

"Are you serious?" asked Dylan, looking at him as if he'd gone insane. "It is the most necessary thing I've ever had to do!"

"Let me ask _you _a question: Why were you so upset because Ryan found out about me. Were you planning on marrying him? I also heard you when I was leaving, begging him to stay with you. It's amazing how much more you seem to care about losing him than ending your entire marriage."

"That's more than one question," Dylan observed. "You said one."

Marco looked at him expectantly, which meant that he was supposed to answer, even if there were more than one.

"I was upset because I want to be with him, obviously. Was I planning on marrying him? I don't know! Why does it matter to you?"

"Why am I being punished, Dylan?!" Marco put down the can of pills he had in his hand, and turned shakily back to Dylan, letting the tears flow more than they had since the day Dylan left.

After seeing her father actually crying, Rebecca couldn't handle it anymore. She could tell how hurt he was, even if she didn't know why, so she left them alone, walking inconspicuously back to her room. Marco and Dylan were paying more attention to each other anyway.

Dylan looked confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You never came back to try to make things better!" said Marco. "You never begged for me like you did for _Ryan. _You never even tried to convince me that you loved me."

"What are you talking about?" asked Dylan, sitting down on the stool. "I always told you how much I loved you."

"Dylan! I mean, when you left. For Ryan, it was all, 'I'm sorry, this and that, I do really love you.' For me, it was all 'good-bye'."

"That's not true," said Dylan. "When I left, it was hard for both of us, but now—"

"You could have come back!" said Marco, still crying, angry that Dylan wasn't even trying to make him feel better. "You could have come back to try to make it better, like I said."

"I didn't think I was allowed to set foot in this apartment," he defended himself.

"You weren't, but never calling or anything makes me think that I'm not worth…you fixing things, and now you serve me with divorce papers as if I…I should be punished for wanting you to fix things."

"You didn't tell me you were willing to fix things," said Dylan, getting off of the school to comfort Marco because his crying was only getting worse, but Marco pushed him away.

"You waited until I told you! That means you didn't want it, Dylan. Not enough, at least," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm not willing to admit that our relationship is shot to hell. Besides, I promised myself I'd never let this happen. You remember when I first decided I wanted to be a social worker, all I ever did was feel so sorry for those divorced, unhappy, people? I haven't become one."

"Look, Marco—"

"I haven't!" he screamed, losing control. "I will never be a man that others must feel sorry for because he screwed up his whole freaking life by marrying someone so completely wrong for him! I didn't ruin this marriage; you did, so why do I have to pay for it?!"

"Marco…" said Dylan, biting his lip.

"No one needs to know we have problems. All the teachers at Degrassi think we still live together. I will not become some pathetic…"

"By lying to everyone you've become the meaning of pathetic!"

"What happened to us?" he asked, putting his face in his hands.

"We fell apart," replied Dylan, not looking any happier than Marco did.

"I mean, what happened first?" he asked, taking his face out of his hands. He walked, with Dylan behind, into his bedroom.

Marco sat down on the end of his bed, patting the spot next to him. Dylan obliged, keeping a distance between them.

"I really don't know what you want, though," said Dylan, ignoring the question that had been asked. "Getting an official divorce is out of the question, but you said that you didn't want me to try to make things better because you had to 'tell me first'. Tell me what you want, and…"

"Dylan, that ruins everything," said Marco. "I need you to know for yourself what I want."

"Love doesn't mean I can read your mind," said Dylan, rolling his eyes.

Marco turned to him, shocked that Dylan could say that word without realizing it might have affected him.

"After everything, you…you still love me?" he asked.

"Marco, I will always love you," said Dylan. "Remember, you forced me out. I never wanted to leave. Divorce is still right for us, Marco. The question is, do you still love me?" asked Dylan.

"I…I…it doesn't really matter," said Marco.

"Answer the question, Marco."

"Of course I still love you!" he shouted. "Are you an idiot? I keep telling you how much I wanted to make this work, but you wouldn't! Also, if Ryan hadn't dumped you, you never would have left him."

"You're the only man I've ever loved, Marco," he said truthfully, leaning in closer to him, deciding the space wasn't really needed.

"N-no," said Marco, inching away. Dylan was so confused. Didn't he want things to work? "No, you can't. It can't just be that easy."

"What?" Dylan asked.

"I think you should go home. I need to think," he said, running his hand through his hair self-consciously. "Good-night."

"Marco!" said Dylan, upset that he was being pushed away after getting so close.

"Like I said, I shouldn't be the one punished."

"No one should!" said Dylan. "We should just forget the past! What happened between us…"

"—was your fault!" Marco interrupted. "You get everything so easy. It's not going to happen anymore."

"Oh, I see," said Dylan. "This isn't because you still love me. You won't give me a divorce because it's what I want. You just never want to give me what I want."

"Excuse me!" Marco interjected. "Don't turn this around on me. You make it sound like I'm the evil parent or something because I won't buy you those skittles."

"Oh, so you've been denying my poor niece skittles? Is that how it is?" said Dylan, standing up in fury.

"What!" said Marco. "Why are you…where is she coming in from? Dylan, listen to me. What the hell are you talking about, 'I never give you what you want?' I would have given you the heart right out of my body!"

Dylan saw that he was no longer crying, and he was thankful for that, but the fact that Marco was screaming at him made him feel like he was no longer in control of the situation, which didn't make him happy.

"I am sorry for everything I did—"

"If you were sorry, that would have been the first thing that came out of your mouth. The day after I kicked you out, you'd have called me telling me how everything was your fault, and all of that. I'm not saying I would have been gracious about it, but you could have tried. Telling me now…yeah, you really sound apologetic. You just keep blaming me!"

"Just sign the papers! Marco, you won't have to ever have this fight with me again. I'll stay out of your life, but…okay, maybe I'll just come to visit Rebecca more," said Dylan. "This is how it's meant to be."

"Get out," said Marco. "No papers, no talking, no nothing. I am not dealing with this. I need to think, and I want you out."

"You know what," said Dylan, "I'm not leaving. You want a husband, you're going to get your husband tonight."

"Oh, for God's sake," said Marco, rubbing insanely at his temples, sure the Advil just _had _to be kicking in soon.

"Come on, baby," he mocked. "Let's go to bed."

Marco smiled, anger clearly showing in his eyes. "Yeah, I agree. I'm sooo tired." If Dylan wanted to piss him off, he was not going to let it work.

Author's Note: I'm sorry this took so long. I had a stupid thing to go to in Vermont, and I would have warned you, but it was so sudden! Hopefully, this chapter was good enough to fill the long wait. I just want you to know it's Saturday, and I'm done lol. Posting it is the problem. Hopefully, it will be up by Monday. Tuesday is my birthday, so I need some nice reviews for my present :). However, it might be longer than that due to the site being mean :(.


	7. Cry

Author's Note: Here's chapter seven. The flashback may seem totally random, but it's there for a reason.

"Fine," said Marco, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the drawer. "Sleep in here. I don't care," he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

Dylan shrugged. "I don't have any clothes with me," he said, as though he just noticed the fact.

Marco glared at him. "Sleep in your jeans," he said, annoyed.

Dylan smiled, seeing how angry Marco seemed to be. "That's not comfortable," he said, keeping himself from laughing.

"Dylan!" Marco shouted, throwing his hands in the air, tired of caring. "Sleep naked for all I care!" Marco changed into his bedclothes, pulling the blankets back to get in.

Dylan removed his jeans and his shirt, deciding to sleep in his boxers, making it his mission to piss Marco off as much as he possibly could. However, Marco was stubborn. He might murder him before he gave him a divorce, and that was a risk he was just going to have to take.

Dylan cautiously pulled up the blankets, lying down next to Marco, keeping a space between them. Though, the space wasn't enough for Marco because he moved farther away the moment Dylan got in. Dylan faced Marco's back, rolling his eyes. Just as they were getting settled, Rebecca's knock came at the door. Marco got up to open it.

"You locked it?" Dylan asked, smirking.

Marco raised an eyebrow. "Don't get any ideas. I always lock it. Besides," he said just before opening the door, "I thought you never wanted to see me again. Now…you're thinking about sex?"

Dylan suppressed a chuckle, putting a finger over his lips to remind Marco that Rebecca was outside the door. When he opened it, he was met with a very surprised looking girl.

"Hi," she said questioningly.

"Hey," said Dylan, sitting up curiously in bed.

"Why is he—"

"Long story," Marco interrupted, not willing to go into detail since he didn't really know the answer himself. "What's up?" he asked, not thinking.

"I wanted to say good-night!" she exclaimed, outraged that he didn't realize that.

"Oh," he laughed, crouching down. "Well, good-night," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Night, daddy," she smiled. "Good-night!" she said, looking at Dylan.

"Good-night, Rebecca," he said with a grin.

Marco hugged her tightly, and closed the door behind him, remembering _not _to lock it that time.

He got back into bed, turning immediately away from Dylan again. "Don't bother me," he warned. "Go to sleep."

Dylan shrugged, aware Marco couldn't see it. His job would never be accomplished if he was worried about bothering him.

"Does she do that every night?" he asked, referring to Rebecca's good-night.

"Yes," said Marco, turning off the light beside him.

" You work at Degrassi, right?" said Dylan, already knowing the answer.

"I know what you're trying to do," said Marco, "and it's not going to work."

Dylan could tell it was working, though. The tone of his voice gave away absolutely everything. He was exhausted, and Dylan was keeping him up.

"Okay," said Dylan, ignoring the obvious request, "how are your parents?" he asked, continuing on with his game.

Marco tried not to let it get to him. "They're very well," he said, gritting his teeth.

"How's Ellie?" he asked.

"You already saw her," Marco reminded, turning on the light, and turning to face him. He knew Dylan wasn't going to let him sleep that night.

"And…Paige?" Dylan asked. Marco almost jumped out of his skin. What would possess Dylan to ask such a ridiculous question? Did he think it was funny? But Dylan's face looked far from amused. He actually looked rather confused.

"What?" he asked.

Dylan blinked, and as quickly as Paige was brought up, she was dropped. "Do you ever miss how life used to be?" he asked.

"Umm," said Marco, still slightly confused about Dylan's interesting Paige question. "Yeah, of course," he said honestly.

"I always miss you," said Dylan, and for a moment, Marco wanted to believe he was drunk or something, but he was as sober as Marco. Dylan waited patiently for a response.

"Night," said Marco, turning the light back off, seeing his chance.

Dylan thought it'd be best to just leave it at that.

The next morning, Dylan found himself alone in bed. His first instinct was to assume Ryan had gone to work, but then he remembered he was at Marco's. He groaned, looking at the clock.

It was only seven. When had Marco gotten up? Dylan pulled himself tiredly out from under the covers. When he walked into the living room, he stood in the doorway, watching Marco and Rebecca silently.

"I don't know what dis one is," said Rebecca, frustrated.

"You can figure it out," said Marco, his coffee cup in hand.

Marco was sitting on the floor with Rebecca in his lap. She had one of her favorite picture books in her arms. They were both too concentrated on the book and each other to notice a close-to-naked Dylan in the doorway.

"Put the first two letters together. G—r is what?" he asked.

"Grr," she giggled. Marco nodded.

Then, something extraordinary happened. Okay, maybe it wasn't a truly unexpected phenomenon, but it had been so long since Dylan had seen such a sight on his husband's face.

_Marco's beautiful smile. _Dylan became frozen in his spot, watching his niece sound out the word 'great' successfully.

"Great job," said Marco, hugging her lovingly. "High-five," he said proudly, holding his hand up for her to slap.

Then Marco, his face still full of joy, finally looked up at him. Dylan stared, watching the smile vanish completely. It hurt him that hearing Rebecca sound out a word made him ecstatic, but just seeing Dylan's face seemed to bring his day down. Dylan couldn't believe how he'd forgotten that look of pure happiness, and how it made his Italian features glow, and he wanted more than anything to be the cause of it. Damn, he was so screwed.

"Hello," Marco spoke softly, trying to appear calm in front of Rebecca. Dylan finally moved further into the room.

"Morning," said Dylan, trying to conceal the fact that he had been staring.

Rebecca got up from her position on Marco's lap, almost spilling his coffee in the process. She walked across the room to Dylan, and he looked down at her.

"Can I hug you?" she asked. "I prolly have already, but," she laughed, "is that okay?"

"Of course," said Dylan. She hugged his legs, but Dylan brought her up into his arms. How had he gone so long without being a part of her life?

"_Yes," said Marco wearily into the phone, shaking the baby in his arms to calm her. Teething, from the very beginning, had been the most awful experience for Rebecca. "Paige is going to pick her up in a few hours, Ma…yes, I can handle it—"_

"_Marco," said Dylan from behind. Marco held up his pointer finger, telling him to wait until he was done._

"_Marco," Dylan repeated more strongly, pretending Marco hadn't made any gesture whatsoever. _

"_Hold on," he told his mother, realizing Dylan evidently needed to speak with him at that moment. _

"_Yes?" he asked, trying not to sound too irritated, but with his mother's voice, niece's screaming, and Dylan's attempts to get his attention, it was becoming difficult._

"_My sister was taken to the hospital about an hour ago," said Dylan. Marco rocked Rebecca subconsciously. Dylan spoke in a monotone, sounding as though it didn't affect him at all or he was simply in shock. Marco assumed it was the latter._

_In Marco's concern, he dropped the phone, and came close to dropping the baby, but fortunately he didn't. "Well, let's go, Dyl," he said quickly, figuring his mother would have to understand._

_Marco moved by him to get his jacket from the other room, but Dylan pushed him back gently._

"_She's gone, Marco," he said, suddenly gripping Marco's hand tightly. _

"_Dylan…I…" he said, not knowing what else to say._

_Dylan didn't cry, and Marco tried to stop himself from doing so. They just stood perfectly still, staring at each other blankly. Dylan's tight hold on Marco's hand was steadily increasing, but he ignored it. The baby just continued to cry._

Dylan suddenly realized that he had been holding Rebecca for a good five minutes straight, being flooded with the memory of that scary day, and he began to cry.

Marco rose from his position on the floor, walking over to where Dylan was standing. Realizing that Rebecca was probably feeling uncomfortable, he let go of her.

Marco smiled uneasily up at him. "Okay?" he asked, wiping some of Dylan's tears away.

Dylan painfully swallowed the lump in his throat, looking at the floor. All he knew was he'd waited a good long time to cry.

Author's Note: Okay, so please review. Last night, I got to see Sunglasses At Night even though I live in the United States!! Go me! (It was AMAZING. Marco and his dad had some good moments.) If anyone hasn't seen it, wants to, and doesn't know how, ask me for the link and directions, and I'll be happy to give :)


	8. Dylan in the house

Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I've been busy and, I admit, lazy as well. I hope the wait was worth it :) There are a bunch of curses in this chapter due to anger…so, you have been warned. Breaking the Attachment chapter 5 should be up some time this weekend...maybe tomorrow afternoon :)

"Why are you crying?" Rebecca asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"

Marco patted the little girl on the head, not taking his own concerned eyes off Dylan. "He's okay," he said.

She sighed, looking between the two who were staring intently at each other. "I'm going," she announced. "I'm going."

She knew enough that the adults wanted to speak alone, and she no longer cared about getting involved, so she ran off to her bedroom. Marco and Dylan barely noticed.

"Sit with me," Marco suggested, forgetting any anger he had due to Dylan's need to spend the previous night bothering him.

"Okay," said Dylan, trying to make himself stop crying, but he was failing miserably.

Marco sat next to him on the couch, laying a hand on the other man's shoulder, but looking straight ahead at the black television screen.

"I don't want to put her through all of this," said Marco.

"And you think I do?" he asked. "Marco, this is hard for us, and it will be no matter what we do, but we can't just avoid the situation entirely. It has to be dealt with," said Dylan, irritated.

"I knew I never should have called you that day. I knew all of this would come back at me," said Marco, finally turning to his husband. He started to again become angry at the flood of memories rushing through his mind. "You make it sound like I wanted our relationship to fail."

"Marco, listen to yourself," said Dylan. "You admit it's failed, so why are we holding on?"

"Stop hinting at a divorce. I already _know _you want it," Marco raised his voice. His temper seemed to always be on the edge lately. "Besides," he added, "it's your fault, anyway. I should be the one begging for the end."

Dylan shook his head, getting up from the couch. When all else fails, his usual philosophy, pace the living room floor, which was what he decided to do.

Marco stared up at him. "Last night," he said in a strange voice, "you asked me how Paige was. What the hell was that?"

Dylan shrugged his shoulders, implying that he would rather not talk about it. "You changed the subject."

"No, tell me," said Marco, not planning on taking 'no' as an answer.

"Issues," he said softly. "Anyway, I just—"

"What do you mean by issues?" asked Marco. "Dylan, please, I want to understand. You were in my bed with the plot to irritate me, and then you ask one of the strangest questions I've ever heard. Next thing I know, you hug my da…Rebecca to death, crying."

For a moment, both men were silent, and the only sounds heard were Dylan's socks sliding slowly across the wood floor as he walked.

"Your what?" he asked, realizing what Marco had been about to say.

"Nothing," said Marco. "Don't try to change the subject. What are these issues?" he asked.

"It's just psychological stuff. Who cares? Marco, Rebecca is not your daughter. In fact, she's not even really related to you," said Dylan, angry, for some reason, that Marco would think of Rebecca that way.

"Well, I didn't mean to call her than," said Marco. "It just came out like your stupid question! Besides, it's easy to think like that when she calls me her dad!"

"Why does she?" asked Dylan. "Did you ask her to?

"Wh—what? I—are you out of your mind?" said Marco furiously. "I don't even," Marco bit his lip, ending his fragment. "Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" Dylan asked, confused.

"Why did you leave?" Marco asked.

"You told me to," said Dylan, giving the simple answer. "Oh, you—"

"—I never wanted to lose you!" said Marco. "I was so scared about what, you know, Switzerland might do to us, but," he stopped, sure that Dylan already knew where he was going with it.

"I love you, Marco, and I don't think that's ever going to change, but I don't think we can possibly stay together," said Dylan. Each word was making him feel more horrible. Suddenly, divorce was not such an easy word for him. He realized what it actually meant for him.

Marco closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You're not," said Dylan, "being 'punished' as you said. You already told me the separation had been all my fault."

Marco nodded, his eyes still closed as he tried to come up with what he wanted to say.

"Can you just tell me why?" he asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"Marco," Dylan sighed, ending his pacing, sitting down next to Marco on the couch, "why does it matter now?"

"I want to know," said Marco. "I have always wanted to know. Do you _have _an answer?"

Dylan shook his head. "I'm the worst husband on the face of the earth, and that's why this is useless," he said.

Marco opened his eyes, looking angrily at him. "Be serious."

Dylan sighed. "I actually was being serious. Do you disagree?" he asked.

"With the bad husband part? No, I agree, but that's still not a reason," said Marco, expecting to get much more.

"You'll just shoot them down," said Dylan. "I know you, Marco."

"Try me," he said, "because you've got nothing to lose."

Dylan put his head in his hands, not looking forward to the conversation they had need to have for years. "I was alone, and it just happened."

"Sex just happens, Dylan!" said Marco. "An entire fucking relationship? Don't give me bullshit!"

"Why do you always do this? You ask for reasons, and then shoot it down like I said you would! I…" he lowered his voice, remembering his niece in the other room. "I needed someone, Marco," said Dylan, pretty sure that would just make the situation worse.

"I could have been there for you, but you were too busy pushing me away," Marco cried. "I gave up on you," he admitted, "long before you had the affair with whatever the hell his name was!"

"Then, you weren't innocent either. Giving up on me?" said Dylan. "We both became distant from each other after her death, but you suddenly started blaming me, and I…" he paused mid-sentence, looking own at his shoes, "never told you how much that hurt."

"You should have," said Marco, softly, tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. Marco sighed, not happy about saying what he had to. "I had to blame you because that was easier than wondering what I had done to make her go wrong."

Marco and Dylan sat quietly, mulling over their sudden honestly and openness. "I forget sometimes, you know?" said Dylan.

Marco turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Dylan then seemed to get embarrassed, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "Well, I wake up sometimes, and I forget that we're not together anymore, and Paige is gone. It's weird. It's like it all comes back to me after a little while, and everything hurts again."

Marco thought about it for a moment. Dylan looked completely vulnerable at the time, so Marco didn't want to start another heated argument. Maybe Dylan was right. They couldn't get back together. He did want to keep his distance, but at the same time, he didn't want it to be over. Oh, **why **did he ever have to make that call? Couldn't he have just skipped work like he wanted to that day?

He could tell Dylan felt stupid explaining his problem, especially when Marco didn't speak for so long, so he took pity on him.

"You probably haven't dealt with it enough," said Marco. "You haven't been able to fully accept the situation, so you've avoided it."

Dylan ignored his statement, moving on with something else. "I miss her so much, Marco. I keep thinking 'should we have known?' And we were taking care of Rebecca that day. What if she had been home with her? I just—I can't—" he said quickly. Marco was afraid he'd start hyperventilating soon.

"She wasn't there," said Marco. "That's all that matters. She's happy here, Dyl."

Dylan got up from the couch without a word, offering his hand to Marco. Marco took it, willingly walking with him to Rebecca's room. They walked in without knocking, surprising the little girl. She put down her Barbie dolls, (there was no wedding being held) and looked up at them in wonder.

"You're _both _sad now?" she asked, distressed. "What am I gonna' to do with you?

Dylan laughed. She always seemed to make him feel a little better. "I need to ask you something," said Dylan, moving a few Barbie dolls to make room for himself next to her.

"Are you happy here, Rebecca?" he asked.

"Dylan," said Marco. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Ignore that question," said Dylan. "Do you remember your mother at all?"

"Dylan, stop," said Marco.

Marco held up his hand, signaling for him to wait until he was done to question him. "No," said Rebecca bluntly, not showing pain, anger, frustration, or happiness. She just seemed expressionless.

"You know that she was my sister, though, right?" he asked.

"Mhmm," said Rebecca, still not sure why he was asking her such things.

"Well, remember when you asked us what would happen if we got a divorce?" Dylan asked, ignoring Marco's protest of 'we're not'.

"Yes," she said slowly, trying to figure out what he was saying.

"If it happens, things _may _or may not change if you want them to…what I'm saying is…would you like to try to live with me?" he asked. "Or do you want to stay here?"

Rebecca looked shocked, never having had the thought of leaving her 'dad' ever since she'd been there. She loved him with all of her heart. Did he want her to leave?

"I—I don't…" she stammered, looking up at Marco.

"You freaked her out, Dylan," said Marco, walking over to her.

"Do you want me to go, daddy?" she asked, tears in her eyes. "I didn't know that I—"

"No, of course not," interrupted Marco, picking her up. "Your uncle was just," he looked at Dylan, "giving a suggestion that we need to discuss."

Dylan looked pleasantly surprised that Marco actually wanted to discuss it. At least, he wasn't completely shooting it down.

After Marco was sure he'd calmed her down, he told her they'd be back in a little while. Marco closed the door behind them.

He simply stood there, shaking his head for a while, and then forced Dylan to follow him to the bedroom.

"You have a lot of nerve, Dylan, I have to admit," said Marco, keeping his voice in the neutral zone.

"I know that you think I asked her just to spite you, but I didn't," said Dylan. "It is a possibility, Marco. Like I said, she was given to me, and I—"

"You were unstable at that time," said Marco. "Everything…come on, Dyl. The different boy every night, hockey…almost getting off because of steroids? Come on, she needed to be with me."

"She did," Dylan agreed, "but she doesn't anymore, Marco. I don't want this to become like she's your daughter because she's not!"

"So what if she calls me her dad? How is that threatening to you?" said Marco. "That proves my point. This IS to spite me! She's—she's the only thing I have anymore, Dylan. You never came back for her, to see her, to talk to her…"

"Right," said Dylan, "like you would have even let me in."

"That's not the point! You never even tried!" said Marco. "Just like with me. You never came back to tell me you were sorry, that you loved me, maybe even missed me, wanted to come back…you never came back for her either, so excuse her if maybe, she considers me just a bit closer."

"You always have to work now, Marco. I figured, I would ask her to come until hockey started up again. That way, she'd get used to me without you around changing her mind, and you could work without stressing about whether or not you have a baby-sitter," said Dylan. "I think it works out perfectly."

"And then what?" asked Marco, dropping down onto his bed. "Then, you…serve me with more divorce papers? Papers to…I don't know, have her taken from me if I don't give her to you easily? Convince her that I'm horrible, and that I don't deserve her, that she's rightfully yours? How about no?"

"I wouldn't do that to her," said Dylan. "I would let her make her own decisions. That's what I meant by 'try it out'."

"You can't commit to anything, so why should I believe you?" asked Marco.

"For God's sake, Marco! Don't bring my past screw-ups into this!"

"Besides," Marco went on, "what about your 'forgetting' issue? That would soo confuse her, of course. You know, this isn't about me or you, it should be about her, but for some reason," said Marco, pausing to calm himself, "we can't stop being selfish. I mean, both of us."

"Maybe," said Marco, "you could just live here for a while. That would get her used to you."

"Do you really think my living here is a good idea?" asked Dylan.

"I don't think we really have many good ideas to choose from right now, Dyl," said Marco. "Take the offer or leave it."

"All right," said Dylan.

"One condition," said Marco. Dylan nodded. "The word 'divorce' isn't mentioned in this apartment until I am ready to talk about it."

"You will _never _be ready, Marco," said Dylan. Marco looked at him sternly, waiting for an answer. Dylan sighed. "All right, when you're ready."

Author's Note: Please review :)


	9. Birthdays and Bisexual barbies

Author's Note: Busy, lazy, you know the way it goes. Here's the chapter. Please enjoy :)

Marco fished around in the cabinets for the blue bowl. Rebecca wouldn't eat her breakfast unless it was in that very bowl, so he searched just a little more, pushing up higher on his toes to look on the top shelf. Marco would never put the bowl he needed every morning so high on a shelf. That would be the doing of one evil tall man. Dylan.

He found it just there, in the very back of the highest shelf there was in the cabinet. Stretching just a bit further, and reaching his arm a bit higher, he was able to grab it. Sighing in relief, he went back down to flat feet.

"Here's the blue bowl," he said, forcing a smile at Rebecca who looked amused. "You think that's funny?" he asked, letting out a laugh. "Short people are not funny."

"Mhmm," she giggled, grabbing the bowl from his hands to pour her cheerios in.

"Well…you're even shorter," said Marco, sitting down across from her. Rebecca politely stuck out her tongue at him, and then began to eat her breakfast.

Living with Dylan had been the strangest idea Marco believed he ever had. A sane person would never make his ex-husband (or soon to be) stay with him in such a way that brought back so many good and some painful memories. There were also the irritating times like when Dylan thought the blue bowl should obviously take its place in the back of the top shelf. However, it could have been going a lot worse. In fact, Marco even slightly enjoyed his company. Sometimes. Rebecca was smart, but when he wanted to have an intellectual conversation of some sort, Dylan was now there to do so. Though he wasn't much more intelligent than the child, anyway.

He also helped out with Rebecca, and she was definitely getting used to having him around. There was one night in particular where he had to go out, and she asked. "Where is he?" It may not seem so memorable to most people, but it showed that she felt he should have been there at any moment she needed him.

It scared Marco. It scared Marco way more than he cared to admit. If Rebecca felt at home with Dylan, he was her actual guardian. He felt selfish, but a strong part of his brain told him that he didn't want Rebecca to love Dylan. He needed Rebecca to love him and him only.

"Mornin'," said Dylan, arriving in the kitchen much later than them as usual. He opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and a glass from the cabinet. Marco shuddered. He was getting used to living there, which meant he was no longer just a 'guest.'

"You look upset," said Dylan.

It had been more than two weeks since Dylan had moved in. It was Saturday again, and Marco couldn't believe how fast time was flying. It was already close to December.

"I'm just tired," he said, stirring his coffee with a spoon absentmindedly.

"I see," said Dylan, leaning against the counter with his already empty glass.

"Dylan," said Marco, wondering how to bring the question about without making it a huge deal, "Ellie and Jesse are getting married."

"Yeah?" he said, surprised. "Good for them."

"Mhmm, El told me I should invite you. Would you be interested?" he asked.

"Wow, sure," he said, nodding. "When it is?"

"Tuesday," said Marco. Dylan looked shocked. "They told me in September. I never mentioned it to you."

"Oh, well, I'd be happy to come," said Dylan, refilling his glass. "I'm thirsty," he said as though he needed to defend himself. Marco only laughed.

"Are you going today?" asked Dylan, while Marco took Rebecca's bowl to the sink.

Marco nodded. "Of course. I suppose we should just go together," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"That'd be good."

No matter how many times Marco had been to the cemetery, it still made him feel sick to his stomach while walking through the grass. He'd been there twice with Dylan. Once had been the funeral, and the other was her birthday just after. Since then, Marco and Dylan had both been visiting on their own.

"Happy birthday, Paige," said Dylan softly, placing roses down on her grave. Marco hadn't seen that look in his eyes since the last time they'd been there, and he decided that he hated to see him in so much pain no matter how much they'd been through.

"Happy birthdays, Paige," Marco repeated, holding tightly onto Rebecca's hand.

"Happy birthday, mommy," said Rebecca, slightly confused, waving her hand at the stone. "She down there?" she asked, looking up at Marco.

"In a way," he replied, closing his eyes. He still remembered that horrible day of the funeral.

"_I know this must be very difficult for you, Rose," whispered the man beside Dylan's parents in the front row._

_Dylan snorted derisively, and Marco had to nudge him. He leaned down to whisper in Marco's hear._

"_That man is full of it," he said. "He has no idea how hard this is for her!"_

"_Shh," said Marco. "We're in Church."_

"_I know we are in a church!" Dylan exclaimed, causing several people, including the priest holding service to stare in his direction. Marco took a deep breath, squeezing Dylan's hand in his own._

_Truthfully, neither one of them were really listening to what the man behind the podium was saying because they were too distracted with their horrible thoughts of why and how it could have happened._

"_I don't want to be here," Dylan said suddenly. "I want to go," his voice became louder. "Marco, I want to go!"_

"_Okay, okay," said Marco, hoping to prevent more stares. "Okay, we'll go," he said, getting up from the seat, taking the sleeping baby with them._

_Marco followed Dylan outside, allowing him to lean against the doors of the Church wearily, inhaling and exhaling slowly. "I should have know, Marco."_

"_We've been over this, Dylan, it's not your fault," said Marco._

"_It is! I should have…" he'd been so calm, screaming when he felt the need to cry because he never had before. Marco had never remembered a time in his life when Dylan cried. He usually did what he was currently doing. He'd scream and yell to prevent tears._

"_Do you want to go home?" Marco asked, rocking Rebecca. The last thing he needed was for her to start crying. He already had one small child to deal with for the time being._

"_No," said Dylan. "I want to go back in now."_

"_Okay," said Marco, though he couldn't figure out exactly what Dylan seemed to want._

_Staring down at the coffin with everyone else as it was slowly lowered down into the ground was torture. In fact, Marco was sure that was why it went down so slowly, to torture a person, to say 'here goes your loved one'. However, it probably wasn't the ulterior motive. It's just the way one thinks while in pain. Everyone is out to get them._

"_I don't know why she'd ever feel she needed to end her life," said Rose Michalchuk, crying once again. Marco was becoming more and more concerned with Dylan's lack of tears. He definitely seemed upset, so why couldn't he just let them out?_

"_It couldn't have been that bad of pain," said her husband, shaking his head, his own tears evident in his eyes._

"_Maybe we just don't understand it until we're in that situation," said Ellie, not really speaking to them, but voicing her own thoughts. She knew how it felt to be in a situation similar, maybe not suicide, but self-mutilation._

_Paige's father looked at Ellie for a long time, acting as though he wanted to say something, and then quickly looked back down at the ground._

Marco held onto Dylan's hand tightly as people started saying their bits and pieces about Paige, all ending their speeches in the way: crying.

_After everyone had spoken, Dylan's parents looked at him expectantly._

"_I just…cared about her very much," he said briefly. His speech was the only one ending without tears, and the only one that went into no detail. Many seemed disappointed by it, but Marco understood. Finally, he pulled him to the car, driving them home early. Dylan wasn't going to handle the rest of the ceremony any better. Rebecca had been so cooperative throughout the entire funeral, but when Dylan put her in her car seat, she began to cry._

"_Damn it," Dylan said, slamming the car door shut furiously. _

"Can she hear me, daddy?" asked Rebecca. "If I talked, would she understand?" Rebecca really didn't understand death at all. When it comes down to it, who does?

Dylan sighed, kneeling beside the grave, running his finger along her name. "It never hurts to try."

Rebecca sat down on the grass beside her Uncle, tracing along with him, though she only did it because she saw it being done. She assumed that was the technique.

"I wish I remembered you," she said, and then stood up, certain they were done.

Marco smiled sadly. "Short speech. Just like her Uncle," he commented. Dylan didn't reply.

Dylan stood up from his position, holding out his hand for Marco to take. Marco did so, but not without a look of confusion.

"Dizzy," he said simply. Marco nodded, understanding. With one hand in Dylan's, and the other in Rebecca's, they walked back to the car.

"Bye-bye!" Rebecca called to her mother.

"It's really late, Beck," said Marco, crossing his arms while he watched her with her Barbie dolls, as always.

"Two more minutes! Pleease!" she begged. Marco would have agreed, but she had no perception of time. Two minutes meant six hours in her book.

"Good-night, Rebecca. Barbie and Ken have to sleep at some point too," said Marco.

"Barbie and Ken aren't married anymore, daddy! Barbie marries a new person everyday!" she said it so bluntly, as though this was common knowledge.

"Wow," said Marco. Apparently, no one knew how promiscuous that Barbie really was. "There's only, like, two men in Barbie world, though," he realized, walking over to sit next to her on the bed.

"So? Today, she married this one…I don't know her name, but I just call her Jenna Barbie," said Rebecca, feeling like she was buying more time with the conversation. "She's black," she added.

"I noticed," said Marco.

"Is that bad?" she asked. "Because I didn't—"

"No, of course it's not bad," said Marco quickly. "It's just an interesting choice…for Barbie to marry…uh, another girl."

"Well, I think if people like Barbie, people will be okay with it," she said, smiling.

"I like that theory," said Marco, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Bedtime," he announced.

She groaned. "Fine," she said, placing each doll gently back into the bin, and putting it back in her closet.

Marco turned the light off, and left the room. He saw Dylan sitting on the couch, watching (surprise) hockey. Marco squinted his eyes at the television. "Haven't you already seen this one?" he asked, turning the kitchen light off.

"Yeah," said Dylan. "I'm surprised you pay that much attention."

Marco shrugged. "So, I got some interesting news putting Rebecca to bed," he said, sitting down next to Dylan, always making sure to leave that little bit of space between them.

"Oh, yeah? What?" he asked, turning the game off.

"Apparently, Barbie may be a bisexual," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

"They should definitely televise that!" said Dylan, laughing.

"Yeah, Rebecca is quite an interesting little girl. Also, she has no problem with interracial marriage," said Marco, "which is good since I can now have her permission to marry a Canadian."

Dylan ignored the last statement. "You raised her right, I guess."

"You've helped. Even if you haven't always been there, you've helped her development," said Marco. "Trust me. I often hear things out of her mouth, and automatically think of you."

"Do you…do you think she's going to be okay?" asked Dylan, slightly changing the subject. "I mean, her mother was su…commited suicide, and her father was…and we're…I mean, do you think she'll be okay?"

"I think she's going to be just fine, Dylan. I'm trying to give her the best life I can," Marco replied.

Acting on impulse, he leaned forward, and lightly pressed his lips against Dylan's. He pulled away, planning on walking back to his bedroom, but Dylan pulled back against him, and he soon found himself in another breathtaking kiss.

Author's Note: What will happen next chapter? Oooh, can you say a bit of craziness? Perhaps drama? Please review :) Next chapter of Breaking the Attachment will be up as soon as possible. I promise :)


	10. Realizations

Author's Note: I was going to update another one first…then I realized this one should…I don't know. My cycle is ruined lol. Enjoy.

"You just leaned over…and kissed him?" asked Ellie, now fully awake. When Marco had called her on his way to work, it being six in the morning, she wasn't too pleased, but after hearing the news, it was all forgotten in her mind. "What's going to happen?"

"I don't know," he whined, turning into the school parking lot. He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. "I just…we didn't even speak this morning or after it happened…"

"You kissed, and didn't speak a word?" she asked, shocked.

"Basically," he said.

"Marco," said Ellie. "Sorry, Jesse wanted to know who it was. Anyway, you're telling me that as soon as your lips pulled apart…and you looked into each other's eyes…_nothing _came back?"

He shrugged. "El, I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye," she said, letting him get into work.

The truth was nothing _did _happen after the kiss. In fact, as soon as he'd pulled away, he'd walked down the hallway into his bedroom with a word. Dylan, assuming Marco didn't want to talk about it, discussed everything except the strange occurrence while he was getting ready to leave for work. Maybe it wasn't because of Marco wanting to avoid it…Dylan wouldn't be that considerate. Maybe it was because he didn't want Rebecca to know.

Signing it at the main office was always the part that bothered him the most at work. He was in such a vulnerable position, writing down his name, that if someone happened to come in, they would get a moment to say hello. Once the greeting was uttered, he had no easy get-away.

"Hey, Del Rossi," said Mr. Simpson, coming up behind him. Marco only hoped Simpson had other things to do than hold a conversation.

"Hey," said Marco unenthusiastically. "How are you?"

"I'm all right, but how are _you? _I feel like I haven't seen you in years," he laughed. "You get in, run away. You finish, and run out. Busy?"

"Oh, yeah…you know, my niece," said Marco, wishing that really was all that bothered him. He didn't need to tell Mr. Simpson that he didn't like talking to people anymore.

"Right," said Mr. Simpson, as they both walked out of the office together. "How's that going for you?" he asked.

"It's going great," he nodded. "I—"

"You know, some people are starting to wonder…how's your husband doing?"

Marco was sure that the only reason 'some people' were starting to wonder was because Mr. Simpson had shoved the thought into their heads. Marco hadn't exactly told anyone at work about the problems they'd been having. During their first year of marriage, he'd talked non-stop about his amazing husband, how he was doing in hockey, and everything that came with his life. Then, it had all just stopped.

Marco had never worried about what they thought because he had always assumed they just figured he'd stopped talking because it reminded him of Paige's death. He never thought they actually thought he and Dylan were having marital problems. He often asked himself about why he didn't tell them. Was it just because of the simple fact that it really wasn't their business? Or was it more? Was he really in denial about what was going on like Dylan thought he was?

Probably. Because Marco never liked to admit something that made him slightly less…perfect.

"My husband's doing really well," he lied. "In fact, he's at home with Rebecca at the moment, and lately, she can't get _enough _of him."…which wasn't exactly a lie. Rebecca did simply adore Dylan, but Marco knew he was implying that Dylan never left.

"That's good," said Mr. Simpson. "I've got to get to my homeroom, but I feel like all you do is work, Marco," he said, trying not to act like a parent. "Have some fun every once in a while. It's not illegal…well, I suppose it depends on what—"

"Thanks, I'll see what I can do," Marco interrupted. "I'd better get going."

Marco walked to his office, aware that Mr. Simpson felt bad, but he couldn't take another lecture. He just couldn't.

He was surprised to see a boy he didn't expect to be there waiting outside of his doorway, looking down at his knees. "Hello," said Marco cautiously.

The boy looked up quickly, a guilty look rising in his eyes. "Oh…I—I didn't, like, make any appointment or anything, and I know you probably have other people, but…" Marco listened to him ramble while he unlocked the door.

"Come in, Jake," he said, pointing into the office. The boy smiled.

"Thanks," he said immediately.

"No, problem," said Marco, taking a seat in his chair. "You're going to be late for first period, though…"

He shrugged. "All right," said Marco, putting his stuff down next his desk. "Shoot."

"Ever since Em died…it's like the rest of the family is falling apart," he said, tears in his eyes. "My mom is mostly silent, and my dad spends most of his time screaming at me or going to work. Brianne doesn't even understand what happened. I keep having nightmares."

"Sometimes," said Marco, "I know it doesn't help to hear this, but sometimes people don't know how to handle something painful, like a death, so they think it will make it easier to deal with it by doing what your family is doing. Sometimes, you subconsciously blame other people who had nothing to do with it."

"I know…" said Jake. "Kind of like I did to you."

Marco smiled sadly. "Yes, kind of like that."

"I guess it's like…I'm tired of blaming myself…even though a part of me wants to, so I blame you because you're just, like, there."

"You know I won't get angry with you," said Marco, understanding.

"Exactly," he said. "I just…I remember seeing her in the hospital…just covered in blood, and that damn person who…he should be blamed," said Jake, taking a deep breath. "Yet, I don't know where _he _is, so—"

"So you can't deal with it," Marco said, biting his lip. "I definitely understand that, Jake, and I'm very glad that you came back to see me."

"I'm sorry for what I said last time. I was just so angry, and I felt like there was no way you could get it," he said, looking extremely apologetic, and Marco could never stay upset with him.

"It's okay, Jake."

"Still…I don't hate you. You're keeping me sane," he said, smiling for the first time that morning.

"I'm glad," said Marco. "Go to class," he laughed. "If you need to see me again, make an appointment."

"Of course. I'll have way more stuff you tell you next time, Mr. Del Rossi," he said, closing the door.

Marco took another sip of his coffee. His students obviously didn't know how much their stories affected him. He found a relation to himself in each one they told him. Occasionally, he'd give them advice he'd only realized was true the moment the words left his mouth. Was that why he and Dylan had problems? It couldn't have all been _just _because of Paige…but her death had definitely been involved in the fighting.

_I'd rather you had died. _

He'd never said those words, of course! Dylan, no matter how angry, would never speak them aloud, but from the day of her death to the day he left, Marco had seen the words in his eyes almost every morning. He wasn't even sure if Dylan knew it was there.

It wasn't a rational thought. Marco was sure if he'd died instead of Paige, Dylan would be equally as devastated, and the look would be directed at her, saying, _I'd rather you had died._ It wasn't as if Dylan could control it either, but there was just something his eyes that made every other reason for their separation even more painful.

Marco took another large sip of his coffee, wishing it could rid him of all his thoughts.

"So, are you good?" asked Rebecca excitedly.

"I guess I'm all right," said Dylan, flashing her a bright smile while he attempted to cook eggs in a pan. "Marco always said I was amazing, but then again, he never truly understood the sport."

Rebecca giggled. "I hope," she started, grimacing when she saw the bottom of her scrambled eggs turning black, "that you're better at hockey than makin' eggs."

Dylan stared at her, faking offense. "Honey, you should just be glad I didn't make pancakes. Ooooh, boy. That's what I used to eat for lunch, but if you don't like the looks of these eggs…well, let's just say the pancakes aren't too pretty."

Rebecca laughed. "Maybe daddy has some leftovers from yesterday we can eat," she said, getting up to check the fridge. Dylan grabbed her by the waist, causing her to scream in delight.

"My eggs are not _that _bad," he said, closing the fridge door.

"Mhmm," she nodded. "I don't want 'em…"

"Ah, you're too used to good cooking," he said, rolling his eyes, but allowing her to grab something from the fridge while he ate the scrambled eggs. "They're pretty gooood," he teased, not breathing in through his nose as he chewed.

"Suuuure," she said, pointing to the bowl in her hand. "Daddy's pasta's the best," she said, gesturing towards the microwave. Dylan looked down at his burnt eggs, and put the pasta in the microwave.

"I couldn't agree more," he said.

The two of them decided to move to the living room to eat their pasta. (Dylan assured Rebecca that Marco would not find out about their eating-place.)

"So, what do you like to do? Besides Barbies, of course," asked Dylan. She'd asked so many questions about him, after all.

"Hmm…I don't know. Daddy and I watch movies sometimes. I like that."

"Oh, yeah? What kind of movies?" he asked, putting some more of the pasta in his mouth. He wasn't even sure _what _kind of pasta it was, but Marco was the only one he'd eat food from without knowing exactly what he was digesting. Marco could make anything taste good.

"Umm…I don't know. We go to the store, and I say, 'let's watch that,' and he gets it," she laughed. "I mean, he has to approve first…but yeah."

Dylan laughed as well. "Spoiled," he muttered.

"Am noooot."

"Wow, I'm not going to respond to that. I feel like a five year old," he rolled his eyes.

"I see," she said, putting her hand on her hips, almost letting her bowl of pasta fall onto the floor. "What's wrong with a five year old? I'm going to be five in **two **days, you know?"

"Oh, that's right!" he exclaimed. In all of the craziness, Dylan had completely forgotten about Rebecca's birthday.

She nodded. "Mhmm."

"Well, what do you want?" he asked.

She looked at him in wonder. "I don't know," she said after a moment, "but you can never go wrong with a Barbie."

"Oh, honey, I think you have every one made! I wouldn't want you to receive one you already have," he said. "I want to get you something special, something you'll never forget."

She put her finger on her chin, thinking, and Dylan laughed at how deep in concentration she seemed. Finally, she sighed. "I really don't know!"

"Okay, okay, if you don't come up with something by tomorrow, I'll just have to find something myself," said Dylan.

"Well, know what would be soooo special?"

"What?" asked Dylan, eager to hear whatever it was.

"You being with daddy again," she said, as if he should have known. Dylan also figured he should have. "But I'm not that naïve," she said. When had Marco taught her all of those _words? _When did she become so _smart?_ "I mean, I know it'll neva happen."

Dylan had managed to keep his mind off the kiss until that moment. "Don't say never," he replied, "or, in your case, neva."

What had that kiss meant to Marco? As if on cue, the front door opened, and Marco dropped his bags tiredly.

"Hello," he said, seeing the empty bowls on the coffee table. He raised his eyebrows at Dylan, and Rebecca put her hand over her mouth.

"Oops," she muttered.

"Dylan—"

"See, Rebecca reminded me once we got in here that we shouldn't be eating in the living room, but…" he looked over at her, "we just became entranced with the deliciousness of the pasta that we really couldn't move."

"I see," he rolled his eyes, just happy that no mess had been made. "Well, it won't happen again," he warned.

"It won't," they replied.

"Good," he said, taking the bowls into the kitchen to wash.

"Daddy!" Rebecca called from the living room. "Can I watch something?" she asked, waving the remote.

"Go ahead," said Marco. Dylan left Rebecca to her television time, and sat on the counter behind Marco while he rinsed out the bowls.

"You're exhausted," he commented.

"I'm fine, thanks," said Marco, opening the dishwasher to put the bowls in.

"Can we talk?" asked Dylan, and Marco knew what he was referring to.

"I'd prefer we didn't," he answered, walking out of the kitchen with Dylan following right behind. "Going to my room, Becky," he said when he passed by. Rebecca nodded, distracted by her show.

Marco didn't ask Dylan to go away or to leave the room when he entered right behind him. He simply asked him to shut the door.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said immediately.

"Yes, there is," Dylan argued, taking his seat on the bed while Marco stood, glaring daggers at him.

"I let you stay here to get closer to her, not closer to our 'divorce' or closer in our relationship."

"Well, you don't know what you want," said Dylan, his frustration beginning to rise again.

"Oh, like you do!"

"Plans change, Marco. I didn't come here for you, but—"

"If you constantly change your mind, how can our relationship be stable? We have NONE, okay? No relationship," he interrupted, sick and tired of feeling like they had the same fights every other day.

"Marco," said Dylan, "maybe what we have to stop doing is worrying. You're worried that it won't work, and I'm worried…I'm worried of, I don't even know what. I just didn't know that I wanted it back until I came here."

"That's what I mean!" said Marco, throwing his hands in the air. "It took you _this _long to figure out you wanted it, so how am I supposed to trust that you really do? Damn it, Dylan…I'm so tired of this."

"I thought," Marco started, "that I could do this, but it obviously won't work. You living here is going to bring back all of these emotions that I don't want!"

"So, what are you saying? Are we going th—"

"Leave," said Marco. "You don't anything to really pack this time, so it shouldn't be so difficult."

"What?" asked Dylan, trying to process his request.

"Get out!" Marco screamed. "Go!"

When Dylan finally understood what he meant, he stood up to leave, but Marco pushed him back down.

He positioned himself so that one leg was on the bed and the other on Dylan's lap. Dylan was beyond confused, but he leaned forward to kiss him, a kiss that was so much better than the one from the previous night. This kiss meant something. This kiss had promise. This kiss…was over.

"Now, get out," said Marco getting off of him.

Dylan closed his eyes, biting hard on his bottom lip to prevent himself from screaming out nasty things. That boy was going to be the death of him.

Marco was serious, though. He wasn't playing any games, and Dylan wasn't in any circumstance to take a moment to try to understand.

"All right. Good-bye, then."

Marco watched him walk out of the room, following him out into the living room, where he left without even a word to Rebecca, who looked confused, but her attention was brought to the television again as a new character appeared.

Marco ran back to his room, and slammed the door shut, locking it. He knew what he had to do, and if he wasn't patient, he would simply run out to chase after him. If he did that, everything would be ruined.

He lay back onto the bed, realizing after a few minutes of waiting, Dylan wasn't going to come back. He rested his head onto his pillow, starting to cry.

Dylan walked all the way home. He knew if he'd taken a bus, it would have been a very quick trip, but he wasn't in the right mind. Besides, he thought better while he was walking. It was getting rather dark, and he could have sworn he felt a raindrop on his head. He never liked the rain…Marco did.

Either Marco was on drugs or just out of his mind. What the hell had happened? If things like _that _were going to occur, why did he want to be around him? Though, he was quite pleased that, unlike the first time Marco told him to leave for good, he didn't have the DVD player thrown at his head.

He sighed. Marco was so difficult to understand sometimes. In fact, Dylan hardly ever understood him. For instance, why wouldn't he just get the damn divorce if he was not interested in getting back together?! Whatever. That argument was had so many times with Marco that Dylan preferred not to have it with his mind.

Yes, it had definitely been a raindrop; it was suddenly pouring, and that was just the icing on the cake for Dylan.

His clothes were sticking to him. Ugh, did he hate that feeling! **(Author's Note: Personally, I love the rain :) Anyway…)**

When he finally arrived at his apartment, he'd realized it had been almost a month since he'd been there. He rolled his eyes when he saw how much unread mail he'd gotten. Hopefully…the landlord wasn't interested in a talk with him.

"_Just get out! I never want to fucking see you again!" Marco screamed, tears running down his face. "You are a liar and a cheater, and a no good son of a bitch!"_

_Dylan was shocked, even when he'd been angry, he'd never heard Marco talk like that. "Marco, I'm…I'm so sorry. I don't know what the hell has been—"_

"_Wrong with you? I'm DONE blaming all your horrible behavior and stupid moves on her death. I'm DONE, Dylan. Get the hell out!"_

"_Please…Marco, I swear I'll…"_

"_Just go!" he screamed._

_However, Dylan refused. He wanted to stay in his home with Marco and Rebecca…and his belongings and everything. He didn't want to leave._

_Marco grabbed the first thing next to him. The silver portable DVD player was in his hand. He nodded his head at the door. "Go, and I won't prove my anger with this damned mechanical…thing that never even worked!"_

Dylan, unfortunately, hadn't believed him, and did suffer the wrath of a huge bruise on his arm. He sighed. He loved Marco more than anything, but he was the only one who managed to make him that angry.

When Dylan opened the door to his bedroom, a recent memory came to him.

"_You never came back to try to make things better!" said Marco. "You never begged for me like you did for Ryan. You never even tried to convince me that you loved me."_

"_What are you talking about?" asked Dylan, sitting down on the stool. "I always told you how much I loved you."_

"_Dylan! I mean, when you left. For Ryan, it was all, 'I'm sorry, this and that, I do really love you.' For me, it was all 'good-bye'."_

"_That's not true," said Dylan. "When I left, it was hard for both of us, but now—"_

"_You could have come back!" said Marco, still crying, angry that Dylan wasn't even trying to make him feel better. "You could have come back to try to make it better, like I said."_

"_I didn't think I was allowed to set foot in this apartment," he defended himself._

"_You weren't, but never calling or anything makes me think that I'm not worth…you fixing things, and now you serve me with divorce papers as if I…I should be punished for wanting you to fix things."_

"_You didn't tell me you were willing to fix things," said Dylan, getting off of the school to comfort Marco because his crying was only getting worse, but Marco pushed him away._

"_You waited until I told you! That means you didn't want it, Dylan. Not enough, at least," he said, rubbing at his eyes._

Dylan paused while he was pulling back his sheets. Maybe the reason he could never figure Marco out was because instead of trying to, he always just told himself how 'confusing' he was. Another recent memory fought its way into his mind.

"_That proves my point. This IS to spite me! She's—she's the only thing I have anymore, Dylan. You never came back for her, to see her, to talk to her…"_

"_Right," said Dylan, "like you would have even let me in."_

"_That's not the point! You never even tried!" said Marco. "Just like with me. You never came back to tell me you were sorry, that you loved me, maybe even missed me, wanted to come back…you never came back for her either, so excuse her if maybe, she considers me just a bit closer."_

"You never even tried…" Dylan said to himself. "You never came back to tell me…to beg for me…"

Dylan walked back into his living room to grab his shoes.

"Daddy!" Rebecca called, banging on his door. "Daddy, can I come in, pleeease?!" she begged.

Marco rubbed at his eyes, nodding. He got up to unlock it, letting her walk in.

"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to reach up to wipe his eyes.

Marco looked away, shaking his head. "You wanna' go outside with daddy?" he asked. "It's raining."

She laughed, knowing how much he loved when it poured out. "Okay. If it makes you feel better."

Marco scooped her up into his arms, kissing her cheek. "Let's go."

The two of them walked out of their apartment, and stood in the front of the building. "It's dark," Rebecca commented.

"I'll protect you," he said, walking in front of the gate.

Rebecca smiled. "Where's—"

"Probably at his home," said Marco. "Don't ask."

Rebecca felt uncomfortable with his tears, anyway, so she wasn't planning on asking anymore. "Can I jump in the puddle?" she asked.

Marco nodded. "Knock yourself out."

He leaned up against the gate behind him, debating on whether or not they should stay in the area or take a nice, long, walk.

"Okay, so, just listen!" Marco turned his head quickly, surprised to see Dylan standing there, and bit his lip to hide the fact that it was a good thing.

"I took the walk home, instead of the bus, right? I didn't know I was coming back," he spoke quickly. "Then, when I finally decided, I'm coming back, I took the bus because I wanted to get here faster, but if I took the walk here, I would have had much muuuch more time to think about what, exactly, I wanted to say, but I figured coming quickly would be the best choice," he said, sounding completely out of breath. "Therefore, I chose to come fast…but I didn't have much time to think, so I don't have any idea what I'm going to say to beg for you back…but do I, at least, get points for coming?"

Marco stared at him, not sure what to say. He took a deep breath, ready to speak, but Rebecca answered for him from in the puddle.

"I say he gets a _couple _of points."

Author's Note: Pleasssse review!


	11. One Day At a Time

Author's Note: Here you are :)

Marco stared back at him, watching his clothes stick to his body, his hair falling in front of his face. He laughed, knowing how much Dylan disliked being out in the rain. Rebecca walked out of her puddle, her feet covered in dirt. Marco rolled his eyes, and turned back to Dylan.

"I—I…" he started, trying to find the right words. "I love you," he said, his eyes filling with tears. "I love you so much."

Dylan walked closer to him, forgetting, for a moment, all the pain they had gone through to get to such a time. He held his arms out invitingly, and Marco gladly jumped into them. Marco, now at a higher position than the other man, had to lean down to kiss him.

Rebecca laughed giddily, clapping her hands. Marco didn't care how crazy they must have looked to anyone else. He didn't detach his lips for what felt like days.

"I love you too," said Dylan breathlessly.

Marco decided to lessen Dylan's load by letting himself down. They stared at one another without a word, water cascading down both of their bodies. Dylan, no matter how much he despised the cold water, refused to move from his spot. He didn't want to take his eyes off the other man for a second. He was afraid if he blinked, Marco would be gone again.

"Come on," said Marco. "Rebecca's getting cold; let's go inside."

Dylan nodded, but neither one moved. It was almost impossible to believe that they found themselves…together after so long. Their love seemed almost like one of those unbelievable and predictable movies except it wasn't predictable. In a romance movie, they will end up together in the end. In life, that doesn't always happen.

"Daaaaaddy," Rebecca whined, stamping her foot to awaken them.

Marco blinked. "Oh, right."

"Let's go," Dylan laughed, grabbing Marco's hand, entwining their fingers together slowly.

Rebecca walked ahead of the two of them back into the apartment building, for Dylan and Marco were too absorbed in each other to walk, so their niece ended up in the building before they were nearing the stairs.

When Marco and Dylan finally arrived in _their _apartment, Rebecca decided it was time for dessert. Therefore, they had to go change, due to her orders.

Marco and Dylan went into _their _bedroom happily. Marco's mouth was beginning to hurt from smiling so much. He opened his drawer as Dylan watched from the other side of the room.

"Yo—you going to bring all your stuff here again?" asked Marco. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Dylan nodded. "Do you mind if I sit on the bed? I'm all wet." Marco waved his hand, saying he didn't care.

"So, I never got my answer," said Dylan, while Marco pulled his soaked shirt over his head, throwing it into his hamper.

"About?" asked Marco, pulling on a new dry shirt, much to Dylan's disappointment.

"You know, my points," said Dylan, staring intently as Marco removed his pants. Was he putting on a show or something?

"Oh," he laughed, removing his last article of clothing. The underwear. As soon as they were off, however, a dry pair was put on. Damn shame.

Marco tilted his head to one side. "I'd offer you clothes…"

"I have another shirt around here," said Dylan, waving him off. "I know. You're too short."

Marco rolled his eyes. "I have to take you shopping," he said, letting Dylan wrap his strong arms around him.

"I'll get my stuff from home. That is…if you want me to move back in with you," said Dylan, bringing him in even closer.

"Of course I do!" said Marco. "And I'm taking you shopping anyway," he added, rolling his eyes. "You don't have much of a selection."

"If you _must_," he gave in, loving the fact that it brought such a huge smile to the other man's face.

"Shopping…tomorrow…me and my _husband." _

"I really hope the shock will fade soon," said Dylan with a laugh.

"I kind of like it," said Marco. He brought himself in even closer until they were connected. He pushed himself up onto his toes—

"How long are you taking in there?" asked Rebecca, annoyed. "Can we please eat!"

"Impatient," Dylan commented. He shook his head, "Tsk, just like her daddy."

Marco looked at him, eyebrow raised. "What?" he asked.

"You're as good as," said Dylan, shrugging.

Marco smiled. "I think we could be a family," he said. "It may take a while…"

"I'm willing to work at this…I'm going to be better this time around, Marco," said Dylan sincerely. "You and Rebecca mean so much to me."

"Like I said, we can do this," said Marco, pulling out of his arms. "Dessert girl waits impatiently."

Marco, Dylan, and Rebecca ate their cheesecake in the living room (Marco could bend the rules on such a wonderful night) while watching a movie. In fact, it was a Disney movie, Cinderella to be exact. Dylan had learned quickly that it was one of Rebecca's favorites. She and Marco had watched it almost three days a week before he came to stay. At first, Dylan had told Marco how sorry he felt for him, but Marco told him that he enjoyed it. Now Dylan understood why.

Rebecca grabbed Marco's arm tightly, squealing at her favorite parts. She clapped excitedly when the Prince first showed. (Marco had filled Dylan in on how much she simply adored the animated man.) Dylan and Marco found themselves watching the little girl beside them instead of the movie. That is, until she yelled at them, telling them they were missing all the good parts. Dylan understood what he meant.

Marco got up in the middle to take their plates to the kitchen. Rebecca sighed, crossing her arms.

"What's up?" asked Dylan.

"He always moves around!"

Dylan laughed. "He's restless," said Dylan. "Don't worry; he could recite the movie."

Rebecca nodded, biting her finger nervously as though she'd be surprised, while Cinderella was being tried for the shoe.

"Daddy!" she said happily when he came back into the room.

Marco smiled in her direction, and sat back down in the middle of them, leaning his head on Dylan's shoulder.

"Daddy," she said warningly, seeing his eyes start to close.

"I'm watching!" he assured her, feeling himself drifting off to sleep.

Once her focus was back on Cinderella and the Prince's kiss, she completely forgot to argue with Marco about whether or not he was awake.

"So," said Dylan quietly, trying not to distract the little girl near to them. "So, what was that kiss about? I mean, the one before you kicked me out."

Marco shrugged. "I guess it was a desperate attempt to make you see what you were leaving behind," said Marco, frowning at the thought, "or to make you see I really _wanted _you to stay."

Dylan nodded. "What was I leaving behind? A bipolar maniac?" he teased.

"No, a really really good kisser," said Marco, teasing him back. "I am, and you know it."

Dylan laughed. "Of course, my love."

Marco and Dylan kept quiet for the rest of the movie, afraid they would be caught.

"But I'm not tired!" Rebecca whined, stamping her foot loudly when Marco shut off the television. He raised his eyebrow skeptically.

"Bed," he said sternly, pointing down the hallway to her bedroom. Dylan watched, intrigued. Being a babysitter wasn't a big deal, but he was going to have to learn how to get used to the 'parent' thing.

She shook her head stubbornly. Dylan had to hold back a laugh, which, unfortunately for him, Marco noticed.

"You want to do this?" he asked. Dylan shook his head quickly. "Didn't think so," he said, turning back to her.

"Rebecca, I let you stay up later than usual…" he started, watching her eyes plead with him. "No. I'm not that soft. Bed. Now."

"Fine!" she yelled, turning on her heel, walking off loudly to her bedroom.

Marco flinched as she slammed the door. "And she forgets in the morning," he informed him, rolling his eyes.

"She's not as easy as she looks," said Dylan.

"None of them are, but she's been much worse."

"Oooh, boy," said Dylan, biting his lip.

Marco led him back to the couch, laying his head down in the older man's lap. "She has her days. We just have to take it one day at a time."

Dylan sighed. "Yeah, I know. Speaking of one day at a time…do we _have _to go shopping?"

Marco. "You know my answer to that."

"But Marrcooo!" he whined.

"Yeah, as you could see by Rebecca's performance, I'm not giving in," said Marco, laughing.

"Marco! She's just sleeping. I'd give anything for that. I have to go a whole day shopping with _you…you who—"_

"I see," Marco interrupted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just…just we'll be there a while."

"One day at a time," said Marco, finally falling asleep for real.

Dylan gently ran his hand up and down Marco's side, watching him sleep. He couldn't believe they'd actually made it.

Author's Note: Yes, this is the end, I'm afraid, BUT there will be a sequel. I'm not sure when, but within the month. It will take place when Rebecca's older, and you will all find out more about the past. For example, Paige's death and Rebecca's father. Please review :) Next chapter of Anytime is good, just not now will be up…Tuesday or Wednesday, probably. I had a good time with this one, and the sequel will hopefully be just as good.


End file.
